


Summer and Fall

by VincentMeoblinn



Series: ROTG/Sherlock crossover [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Bestiality, M/M, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Oral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:19:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2682302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Sherlock Skellington. Sherlock and John each have traumatic endings to their lives in the New World that was created, but rise once more as the Spirits of Fall and Summer. When E. Aster Bunnymund falls ill- leading to shocking results for Jack as well- one of them is chosen by The Man In The Moon to step up as a Guardian, but the circumstances are suspicious; as one Guardian after another falls ill they begin to doubt Manny’s instructions as well…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. THIS IS MY 100TH FIC!!

_A/N The first several chapters are going to be Sherlock (I combined both BBC and Canon so you can picture either you prefer) in order to set up the situation. If you haven’t seen Rise of the Guardians you’re going to be a bit lost once they pop into play as I’ll be referencing the movie. I’m mostly utilizing the movie but I might reference the books from time to time. I’m also making things up._

 

CHAPTER 1

**WARNING: There's some platonic John/Sholto in the next few chapters.**

It was one of the hottest summers on record, in England and abroad. Being someone who was always chilled, John normally would have all but cheered at this and happily gone to the beach for a week, but his love of sand had diminished after Afghanistan and his heart had been smashed into tiny pieces. Sherlock Holmes was dead. He’d faced off against the wicked Moriarty and fallen to his death in Switzerland, leaving only a note to comfort his long time friend and flatmate.

John was lost without him. He couldn’t help compare this situation to the one his last commander had found himself in when he’d lost a squad of new recruits. Major Sholto had gone into isolation, hiding himself from the world and all his death threats. Even John had no idea where he was, and they were trusted friends. He only had a post box that he could mail to, which he had been told would be picked up by someone else.

The truth was that Sholto had been someone special to John, almost as much so as Sherlock had been. John had always considered himself heterosexual, as was necessary in order to avoid a gaol sentence, but he’d had a rather obvious crush on Sholto and then developed one on Sherlock. Now he was filled with regret. He’d acted on neither, fervently denied both when chums had pointed out his doe eyes and teased him about it, and now he was left with less than nothing. Sherlock was dead. Perhaps if he’d known how much John had loved him he’d have chosen another path. Perhaps they’d have faced persecution, but at the very least they’d have had each other for a time.

Decision made, John stood up and went to his roll top desk to dig up a pen. He would probably humiliate himself, he would certainly lose Sholto’s friendship, he might even be turned in and punished for his lewd thoughts, but he needed this. He needed to purge these horrid feelings twisting in his gut.

 _Major Sholto_ :

_I apologize for not writing to you sooner, but if you’ve seen the papers you’ll realize why. My friend is gone and with him a wealth of opportunities. I can’t help but think that if I’d shared the feelings I had for Holmes with him that he might be alive today. That ship has sailed, but there was one other person who I loved as intensely in my life and I find that I can no longer keep that a secret._

_I’m not sure if you were aware of the rumours that circulated while I was under your command, but I was well known for my love of the gentler sex. What everyone insisted they knew but that I denied, was that I was also very much attached to men as well: or at least one particular individual. I denied it fervently- as one must- but it broke my heart when your name was smeared across the papers. The truth is that I loved you desperately, so much so that it terrified me. I had never felt for any woman what I had and still do feel for you. I don’t expect you to respond to this positively, I don’t blame you if I never hear from you again, but I have to let this out. I still love you. I’m sure I always will. Perhaps at the very least you can appreciate that in a world with so much hate in it someone cares about you as deeply as I do, even if the source of the feelings is one of disgust for you._

_Captain John H. Watson_

_My Dearest John:_

_Of course I don’t find your feelings disgusting. Surprising yes, but not disgusting. I had no idea you harboured such a secret. I only wish you had said something sooner. I fear that if you saw me now you would be well and over your affections. I’m old, John, old and horribly scarred. You can do so much better than a hunted hermit who would look better behind a mask like the Phantom of the Opera._

_Mjr. James E. Sholto_

_My Dearest James:_

_How ironic that you mention Phantom of the Opera. It’s playing in London on the fourth. If you arrive in a mask you’ll look like an aficionado and can move anonymously. I’d be delighted to be your secret consort. Please find the tickets enclosed._

_Yours Truly,  
Cpt. John H. Watson_

_Dear Three Continents Watson:_

_And THERE is the flirtatious and self-assured man my men whispered about! Charm, whit, and the assumption that I’ll show already in place! I suppose you’ll just have to find out on the day of if you’ll have a date or not._

_Sincerely,  
Mjr. James Sholto_

John was an anxious mess standing in front of the theatre, but you’d hardly know it by his proud stance and confident smile. Sholto showed up in a mask as he’d suggested, wearing a suit rather than the uniform John was familiar with. He held out his hand to shake it only to be drawn into a loose hug. He glanced around anxiously but two men embracing were surprising, but not overly suspicious. Most would likely assume they’d not seen each other for some time, as was accurate.

“John,” Sholto said, his voice filled with affection.

“James,” John echoed, fighting down tears. He was still fragile from Sherlock’s death and prone to fits of deep melancholy.

“Shall we?” James asked, stepping back and smiling warmly.

“Lets,” John replied. They headed for the entryway, John presenting their tickets at the booth. They found their seats and sat in companionable silence while waiting for the show to start.

The opera was familiar to Sholto, but not to John who was rooting for the Phantom the entire time only to be reduced to tears when the disfigured man was left alone in the bowels of the music hall. Sholto handed him a tissue and John dabbed at his nose in embarrassment, but the man’s smile was reassuring. Sholto gently gripped his hand in the darkened room where no one would see, but they quickly separated again once the lanterns were relit. There was a clamour for hacks, but the theatre was so close to John’s new tenancy so they walked in companionable silence. The London fog was thick, but neither trusted it enough to touch hands again. Once upstairs John offered him tea or a scotch, Sholto accepted the latter and John joined him on the couch. He still hadn’t removed his white mask but John found it rather appealing so he didn’t mention it.

“I rather felt for the Phantom,” John stated into the awkward silence.

“Mm.”

“I was hoping he’d get the girl, you know? Raul seemed so dull and superficial. He saw her before hand, but didn’t really find interested in her until she was the star.”

“I disagree, my dear John. I think he just didn’t see what was right in front of his nose until it had a spotlight on it,” Sholto replied, “The interest was there, but not the motivation to make a move on her until she had fawning admirers by the thousands.”

“Well,” John laughed, “That I can definitely relate to.”

Sholto took that moment to pull off his mask and face John for the first time in years. His face was covered in disfiguring scars much as the Phantom’s had been. John didn’t even blink. He’d been warned in advance so it was no shock, but even if it had been he was hardly in love with Sholto due to his appearance. True, he was an attractive older man, but it was his personality John had fallen for. However, Sholto looked surprised that John wasn’t jumping up in alarm or gasping in shock. Instead John leaned forward, kissed his heterosexuality goodbye, and kissed James Sholto as well.

Their lips moved together slowly for a moment before Sholto leaned back with a sad sigh.

“John, I’m sorry but this isn’t the best idea. You’ve just lost someone you loved…”

“I know,” John replied, “I just don’t want to waste anymore time. Life is too short.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sholto nodded.

“Then let’s not waste a second more,” John replied, inching closer.

“I’ve not been entirely honest with you,” Sholto replied, hand going to John’s shoulder to hold him off, “As much as I’ve enjoyed this men aren’t my interest. I expected you to pull away from my face and if not… I wish I could change it, I came here determined to, but I just don’t think it’s possible for me to be drawn to you as you are to me.”

John nodded sadly, “I’d never hold that against you, but why did you want to _force_ yourself to feel this perversion I do?”

“Because I’m lonely, John. Terribly lonely, and you’re the first soul to reach out to me with a kind word in over a decade.

“Could I at least see you again? I won’t hold any expectations, but I’ve lost too much lately to watch you vanish into seclusion.”

“I live in isolation, John. _Complete_ isolation. All my staff are under confidentiality agreements. ”

“I’ll sign one.”

“I never leave my estate. This is the first time in over ten years.”

“I can come to you.”

“Travel would mean you could lead someone to me. The threats to my life are real.”

John thought a moment, “Is there a cabin on your estate? An old shed I could convert?”

“You’d _live_ with me?” Sholto asked, “John, is that healthy?”

“Is it healthy for _you_ to live alone? At least if you have a companion with you besides your staff you’ll have someone to joke with, argue with, play a damn card game with!”

“Just not Cluedo, eh?” Sholto teased.

“Gods, no! Never Cluedo!” John laughed bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” Sholto replied sadly, “I shouldn’t have mentioned.”

“I’m not going to forget him, James,” John replied, shaking his head, “I’ll never forget him. I just had to get away from his things. Oh, and he had so many things!”

“Understandable,” Sholto replied, clasping his hand again, “John, you want to think on this. It’s not a decision to make on a whim.”

John laughed again, this time without sadness behind it, “Some of the best decisions in my life have been made on a whim.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock hadn’t intended to die. He knew it was a likely outcome, which was why he had begged Moriarty give him time to compose a farewell letter to Watson, but he had _hoped_ he would survive the event. So when he fell to the rocks on Reichenbach Falls, Moriarty’s body plummeting even further down the falls, he was surprised to find himself rising again. He had struggled to climb the walls, shouting for help as he went. None answered. Then he heard Watson return, read his note, cry out in horror and begin to sob brokenly above him.

“I’m here! Watson! My dear doctor, I’m here! I’m alive! I survived, but I’m trapped!”

Watson continued to pace the rocks above, seeming to be searching the grounds above.

“There’s a way down on the northeast side. If you’ll just lower…”

“You see Lestrade, this is where it happened,” Watson’s broken voice said, “They struggled here- Holmes is brilliant at close combat as you know- and went over the edge there. Both sets of footprints.”

“No! I’m here!” Sherlock shouted again.

“I can’t believe it,” Lestrade replied, his voice choked, “He’s really gone.”

“I’m right bloody here!” Sherlock shouted.

The moon had come out from behind the clouds as Sherlock stamped his feet angrily on the rocks below. It propelled him upwards and he found himself rising in the air. For a moment he was terrified, then confused, then simply curious. He found himself rising up to hover nearby the very scene of Lestrade and Watson staring down at his footprints, their hats in their hands as they stared mournfully down at his apparent gravesite. Sherlock wasn’t so certain that they were wrong anymore. To test it he tried shouting again, but Watson merely sniffled and dabbed his moustache with a kerchief. Sherlock watched sadly as they walked away down the mountainside together.

It took Sherlock some months to figure out how to negotiate his spectral form. He found he could only fly, though walking seemed more accurate, when the moon was out. Moonbeams were now visible to him as if they were solid and he could go higher when the moon was more full, but not faster. He could, however, go quite fast. Sherlock found he could move things to a certain extent, and when he touched leaves they altered, green turning to fall colours and already altered leaves falling off.

Finally he made his way back to 221B Baker Street to find that Watson had moved out to cleanse his minds of the misery of his memories. He found no clue as to where he had gone despite searching the flat. John must have taken the evidence of his departure with him. Sherlock’s things remained so he broke into the flat and collected his precious Stradivarius, tucking it lovingly into its case and carrying it off.

The pull of the leaves was strong and Sherlock found himself wandering farther, touching tree after tree to change the leaves, dropping others, and drifting upwards to walk along the forests from above. This was rather fun so Sherlock danced around for a bit, laughing as he performed a one-man waltz through the sky. Every time his feet touched down on a tree it burst into autumn colours. This continued for miles before he touched down and rested during the day, curled in the branch of a tree. Then he took up his dance again that night. This time he travelled over continents as well and was soon dancing across countries he’d never even seen before. Sherlock had never felt so beautiful before, but there was no one there to witness it. He was entirely alone.

It took Sherlock some years to locate John, but when he did he was happy to find that John wasn’t as depressed as he’d feared. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t mourning him endlessly either. He had found him during his fall migration, drawn to the leaves in the area he lived in with a man named Sholto. Desperate to communicate with him, he quickly moved through the trees and then stood back to stare at his handiwork.

_JOHN I AM HERE SH_

John walked out of his little shed with the smoker in his hand to check on his bees and froze. He was in the precise position that Sherlock’s leaf message would be visible in. He stared around himself in shock and his hand began to tremble. Then he’d turned and walked quickly back to the house. He and Sholto returned to the bee area, donned netted hats, and stared at the message in shock. They talked silently for a while, apparently concerned that John had a stalker who had followed him to Sholto’s estate, and then John pulled out his gun and they hurried to the house once again to contact the authorities.

Sherlock wondered if another message was worth terrifying John and Sholto and then decided against it. Instead he visited the area often when he wasn’t changing the leaves, watching John from afar. He seemed to be growing closer to Sholto, but what looked like a friendship from afar soon became something more. While they never kissed or seemed intimate they did move from sitting in chairs to sitting close on the sofa. Sherlock watched in shock as they moved closer and closer together each night until they sat in each other’s arms. John seemed happy for the first time in years and Sherlock was a mixture of jealous and happy for him.

Slowly Sherlock stopped visiting as much, knowing that it would cause him more pain and no relief for John. He spent his time watching the other spirits he encountered from a distance, laughing at the antics of one Jack Frost and shaking his head as creatures he’d considered myth turned out to be real. They never noticed him and he never brought himself to their attention.

Eventually he realized that it had been decades since his last visit. When he returned the estates had been sold and a new family lived there. There was no sign of John Watson, not even in the little cemetery on the property. Sherlock mourned him for nearly a century, regretting the lost time deeply.

On Halloween one year something shocking happened. A little girl saw him. She screamed and ran, but she _definitely_ saw him. She ran off screaming _Jack Skellington!_ Sherlock wasn’t sure what that meant, but a glance into a nearby reflective surface gave him some clue. His face had a strange look to it, pale with dark markings that almost resembled a skull. It reminded him of the face art that people adorned during the Day of the Dead, but apparently it reminded the little girl of a character from a movie! That combined with his old fashioned suit must have been quite the shock! Sherlock chuckled at his disinterest in his appearance for so long- truthfully he had feared he would look far worse being dead- and moved on. He tested his visibility on the other children and found quite a few who could see him. Some paused to talk to him and he was thrilled to learn that more than a few had heard of Sherlock Holmes as well. John had made him famous by publishing his stories under a penname!

The next year even more people could see him, and more after that. Sherlock found he was becoming stronger and moving faster, his ability to turn the leaves far easier to him. He danced through the skies with glee, laughing and singing to himself. He drew his bow and played his violin to his hearts content, and only those few children who knew the name Jack Skellington could hear him. So he adapted his name and became Sherlock Skellington, the autumn spirit.

Then Pitch found him.


	3. Chapter 3

John and Sholto lived comfortably for some years, content in their lives and happy with each other’s company. Sholto seemed preoccupied a lot of the time, more often lost in thought than in conversation with John, but otherwise was a fantastic friend. He gave John the run of his grounds so he started up a bee colony as he and Sherlock had often discussed. Each evening the two men dined together before retiring to the library to read, play cards, and discuss the papers. John often thrilled James with talk of his adventures with Sherlock, and happily wrote out more to be published as time went on.

Eventually Sholto’s loneliness outweighed his discomfort and they found themselves pressed close together on the sofa. They never made it past holding each other, but in their later years that was deeply comforting to them both. Besides, there was no hurry, no need for the physical. They had a wonderful, intimate friendship that was fulfilling in many ways for them both. Eventually they even began sharing a bed on occasion, but not very often as the staff would grow suspicious eventually.

They went on like this for years, deeply in love if not lovers, when disaster struck. A maid reported them as sodomites and they each stood trial. They denied it fervently, after all it truly wasn’t accurate, but the evidence of their relationship was stacked against them. The maid even had pictures of them cuddled together on the sofa, apparently taken through a window. They were soon sentenced and John knew the moment he heard it that James wouldn’t survive long. He had medical conditions from his years serving in the Queens army. Sure enough, not three months into their incarceration John was informed of James’ death. It was more than he could take. He descended into a malaise so deep that he never returned from it. They buried him a month later, but for reasons John was completely confused by he didn’t _stay_ dead.

John lay trapped in his body, screaming that he was still alive as they buried him. When the sun rose he _felt_ it, and suddenly became able to move! Frantic to get out of his premature burial, John beat against the roof of the coffin until it broke. Dirt came down on him and he scrambled up, swimming through it until he pushed up like a daisy. John struggled up, scratching at the dirt on his skin before struggling to stand. He found himself in the cemetery standing over an unmarked grave.

“Of all the insult!” John snapped angrily, “All over two men cuddling on a sofa! The nerve!”

John kicked at the dirt over his grave and stomped off angrily, bound and determined to go find a man to sodomize just to make up for his wrongful imprisonment. He staggered onto the main road, searching the pockets of his gaol clothes for money when…

“ _Gaol clothes?!_ Bother. I’ll be arrested again in no time,” John grumbled, heading into an alley. He searched the bins for a suitable cover up and only managed to find a well worn wash bag that had been keeping company with some old newspapers. It would have to do. He fashioned it into a poncho and hurried out into the world. He doubted he’d get any sort of positive attention looking like a one of Sherlock’s Baker Street Irregulars, but at least he wouldn’t get tossed back into the pokey.

It was a few blocks before John realized that he was invisible rather than simply being ignored due to his rough looks. When the first person walked through him he was horrified. After the next few he began to realize that he might have died after all. At this point he sought out a windowpane to see what he looked like. John stared in surprise at himself. He looked… odd. His skin had changed so that it resembled leather rather than flesh. He could see the faint trace of scars that resembled stitching in odd places, but that made no _sense_. He had no recollection of being injured, and no mortician would cut him up along odd places not related to autopsy. Then it hit him. He’d been a cadaver. They’d cut him up in order to examine him, then stitched him back together for his burial! He’d been _studied_ after his death! He had no recollection of it, but he felt violated nonetheless. He found an empty alley, still disconcerted despite his apparent invisibility, and stripped off his clothes to study himself more thoroughly. Aside from the usual Y stitch on his chest he appeared to have been dismembered and then re-attached. His head had been opened up as well, but his mortician had been skilled in reattaching him. His joints however…

John stared in horror as he found he could remove parts of his body. His right hand was currently sitting detached in his left hand. He’d tugged on it and it had simply come apart! John hesitated and then pressed it against the stump in worry, trying to figure out how to put it back on. It reattached with no issue, the stitches that had seemingly come apart going back together again and appearing to be a scar once more.

“This is most peculiar,” John worried, “I wish Sherlock were here. He’d have a rational explanation for me.”

That set John to wondering who besides himself was a ghost. Could he find Sherlock again?    oltolllllll His mother and brother? John began to search the world around him, finding himself strong by day and weak by night- an odd combination for a ghost. John was drawn to the plants around him fairly often, finding himself stroking them as if they were lovers. He often stood by the scarecrows as he wandered the earth, laughing at his likeness to them in his new form. He would jokingly chat with them and the farmers around him- though the latter were unaware of him. Animals, he found, _were_ aware of him, so he chased them from the farmer’s seeds and collected any seeds that wandered off their intended paths. He would scatter them as he travelled the world, but after nearly a century he found no sign of Sherlock.

However he did find many starving children, his heart going out to them as he recalled Sherlock’s Baker Street Irregulars. He began to try to help them, figuring if he was doomed to walk the earth forever that he should at least make a positive difference. He wanted to bring them food. John struggled with ways to move things at first. He could move anything that grew from a plant, but had no ability to touch things that were made of altered plants such as bread. Doors and windows sometimes yielded to him, but only if a child were on the other side. Then one day John found himself wandering a graveyard and collected some of the dirt there without really considering his actions. He mixed a seed in and stared at it as he swirled it around in his hand. A sprout appeared. John stared in shock as he stroked the plant lovingly and found it blooming!

John found he could encourage plants to grow at an accelerated rate everywhere if he just kept a bit of grave soil with him and soon began to work on planting and speed-growing fruit trees near the places homeless children gathered. They would cheer and hop about happily as he brought a tree to bloom and then prodded it until it became full of plump fruit. Apples were his favourite, but in other countries they weren’t the best choice so he went with figs, dates, oranges, and anything else that would grow.

Soon John had a name that warmed his heart like the sun. Johnny Appleseed.


	4. Chapter 4

For Sherlock this was finally a dose of adventure, but it was also a chance to bring forth more believers as he’d discovered over time that when children believed in him his strength grew. Pitch was in the process of rallying his forces against someone he referred to as ‘The Guardians’.

“Who are these ‘Guardians’ exactly?” Sherlock wondered.

“Despicable things,” Pitch frowned, “Not like you and I. They pander to the children of the world, _coddling_ them. Children will grow up weak and pathetic under their so called _care_.”

Sherlock nodded at this good sense, “True. Adversity brings forth strength and character, not mollycoddling.”

“ _Exactly_ , yet they have the _gall_ to call themselves the ‘Guardians of Childhood’ while excluding _me_. Pitch. The Nightmare King.”

“Indeed,” Sherlock deadpanned, amused at the sight of the ‘king’ missing his sarcasm completely, “I take it you cause nightmares?”

“Yes,” Pitch replied, “And _you_ scare children for fun.”

Sherlock shrugged, “One gets bored, and it keeps them believing in me. However that is only _part_ of who I am.”

“Yes, the autumn spirit,” Pitch smiled indulgently, clearly thinking little of Sherlock’s abilities, “You herald in the autumn chill. Mother Nature must be getting old if she feels the need to distribute her abilities to so many. First Jack Frost, then you, and then that silly flower child, Johnny Appleseed!”

Sherlock froze in alarm, “Whom?”

“Appleseed! He’s obnoxious. Giving the children _warmth_ and _food_. As if their struggle were completely meaningless!”

“This… Appleseed. What does he look like? Perhaps I’ve seen him.”

“He’s a blonde thing with stitched leather flesh and a stupid grin,” Pitch grumbled, “How they aren’t afraid of his visage is beyond me, yet when I attempted to court him for our plans-”

“ _Our_ plans?”

“-He made me some pretty speech about righteous indignation and attacked me!”

Sherlock chuckled, “That’s my Watson.”

“Sorry?” Pitch asked, his tone threatening.

“Never mind,” Sherlock replied, “Tell me of this plan of yours to defeat these silly guardians?”

“Perhaps… in time,” Pitch replied softly, “First you must prove your allegiance to me.”

“Droll,” Sherlock sighed, “Laterz!”

Sherlock shifted his feet and rode a moonbeam up over the ghoulish nightmare king’s head, twiddling his fingers in amusement. He had a goal now. He now knew John had joined him in the afterlife and he was going to find him.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack was surprised by the call in the height of summer, which was usually the time he spent sleeping tiredly at the South Pole. At this point, he saw the summons and hurried onto the Wind to fly to the North Pole, worried for his new friends. Jack had become a Guardian barely two months ago when Pitch Black had attacked the holidays, causing children around the world to stop believing in the Guardians. Sadly he’d had only a week with his friends after peace had been restored before Bunny had retired to his Warren for whatever he did in summer and he had yawned and wafted away on the breeze for his summer sleep.

Jack arrived at the North Pole fighting down a yawn as he flitted in through a window.

“North?” Jack called out, “Santa?”

“This way,” Santa called, his voice surprisingly soft for the normally loud and intense man.

Jack followed the hissed call down the hallway, North hurrying ahead of him with purpose in his stride.

“What is this?” Jack whispered, keeping his voice low as North had, “Is it Pitch?”

“Perhaps,” North replied, “It’s Aster. You’ll see.”

They entered a bedchamber where E. Aster Bunnymund- the Easter Bunny himself- was sprawled out on the bed. He was without his usual garb and shaking horribly, his fur matted and damp in patches. The room smelled of sickness.

“I’ve tried to keep his fever down,” Santa explained, “But I can’t manage it. I’m worried I’ll make him worse. You can help, ja?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Jack worried, heading over and touching his forehead. He was burning up.

“Illness,” North replied, “This happens to him sometimes in summer, but this time it is uncontrollable!”

“Okay,” Jack nodded, tugging off his shirt, “It will be easiest to do it with my own body.”

“Wha-wha-what?” North stammered, looking alarmed.

“Look, it’s that or we celebrate his death by me making snow cones,” Jack snorted, “If you’re gonna be weird about this leave. It’s just a seven-foot rabbit and a three hundred year old teenager cuddling in a bed at the North Pole. No big deal. Besides, it’s nearly _August_. I’m exhausted.”

North laughed, holding up his hands in defeat, and then turned to leave Jack to his Bunny snuggling. Jack settled in against Bunnymund with a grumble, tugging at him when the shaking Pooka tried to pull away.

“I know, I know. It’s cold. But you _need_ this cold. I can regulate your temperature, but I need to be in full, constant contact with you. Also we may have to roll around a bit, so _you_ get to be the big spoon next.”

Jack brought his temperature down slowly, fighting sleep until it was reasonable, and then climbed over him to collapse against his front and start the process again. He didn’t want to cold-burn him, so he had to be careful. When his temperature was stable Jack let himself drift off, knowing the Bunny’s reaction to the fever rising again would wake him if it went up again despite his cold bedmate. It did a few times over the next day, but then Jack woke up for a different reason.

Bunny’s fever had broken, but in its place was a different sort of heat. Instead of groaning in pain he was moaning in desire and rubbing a significantly large erection against Jack’s boxer-clad backside! Jack struggled a moment, alarmed at the feel of such a massive thing pressing against his nether regions, and then remembered he had a voice.

“Yo, Bunny? Is that a carrot in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” Jack quipped, prodding him with his elbow, “Come on, man! This is weird! Let up!”

“Mmm, s’nice,” Aster growled, licking at Jack’s earlobe.

A shudder went through the winter sprite and he gasped in surprise. Jack was as virginal as the day he’d ‘died’ and the Moon had made him into a guardian, despite his 317 years. Oh sure, his _eyes_ were less than innocent, and his right hand was a slut, but the rest of him? As pure as the driven snow. So when a hand moved along his torso and cupped at his groin, rubbing him up and down until his cock started to harden, his breath left his body at alarming speed.

“Wha’s tha?” Aster muttered.

“A penis,” Jack panted, “That you probably wanna let go ahhhh!”

Jack cried out and began to writhe against the large paw that had shifted from fondling his bollocks to stroking along his shaft.

“Mmm, s’good,” Aster purred.

“No,” Jack gasped, “It’s not good. It feels fantastic, but it is decidedly _not good_. I’d even go so far as to say bad if I weren’t about to come in my shorts! Oh _MiM_!”

Aster’s hand sped up and John lost himself, writhing against the gigantic Pooka’s body as desire amped up in his body until he was mindless with need. Aster’s hips had taken on shocking speed, frotting against him in obvious lust. His cock was leaking against Jack’s back, the semen slick and hot until Jack’s body cooled it to a frozen slick against his lower back. Jack cried out in pleasure and his cock pulsed beneath the touch of another for the first time in his life. He sobbed out his orgasm, shaking with both joy and remorse. This would likely never happen again. None of the other Guardians had shown interest in him and he couldn’t very well bed one of his believers. Hell, most people didn’t want to touch him since he was ice cold! It took a fever and a delusional seven-foot rabbit for him to lose his virginity… or mostly lose it.

Aster’s hips were still flying, his breath hot against Jack’s neck. He reached back to stroke his hands along the rabbit’s long ears and caress his face, deciding he was going to get in as much touching as he could while it was still possible. He turned his head and arched his back so he could press kisses to the lightly furred face, whiskers tickling his nose. Aster’s hips began to lose rhythm and Jack’s eyelashes turned icy as tears pooled behind his closed eyes. This was it. The beginning and the end of the most sexual pleasure- hell the most intimate contact- he’d ever feel in his life.

Aster’s hips stilled and he could feel the rabbit’s cockhead pulse against his backside. His boxers were instantly soaked as hot ribbons of come pelted his back and arse. Jack shivered and let out a soft sob… that was quickly followed by a scream as Aster’s teeth dug into his shoulder.

Aster moaned against Jack’s savaged flesh even as the lad tried to free himself. When the gigantic Pooka finally decided to let him go he did so with a happy sigh as if he just _loved_ the taste of frozen Guardian!

“Mine,” Aster sighed happily, then rolled onto his back and snored happily.

Jack scrambled out of the bed, wrecked in more ways than one and panting hard. His shoulder was a mess of blood and torn skin, but a glance at it told him it was more superficial than it felt. Then he heard footsteps and North’s voice booming down the hall. He’d heard Jack’s scream and was coming to investigate! Panicked, Jack froze the doorknob and lock and ran for the bedroom window. He slipped out into the night and rode the Wind south to safety, determined to never show his face amongst the Guardians again.

Yet as horrible as he felt, when the Guardian’s called again only a week later he hurried to their sides. He came in to find the entire group gathered beside the globe, but when he glanced at it all seemed well.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked, glancing around him worriedly.

“I am,” Aster stated weakly from his spot in a wheelchair with a blanket over his lap. Jack couldn’t quite look at him, but he forced himself to at least turn his head in his direction.

“Bunny?” Jack asked, “But your fever broke! You were okay!”

_You were better than okay._

“Yeah, but whatever I had has weakened me,” Aster replied softly in the hush that had fallen, “Look, I had North call you all here because my time is up. I’m done for.”

“No, don’t say that!” Tooth cried out, fluttering over and plucking at his blanket, “You just need some rest and soup! I’ll make some! I know over three hundred chicken noodle soup recipes! Girls! Go get me the incisors of…”

“Tooth,” North cut her off, his tone oddly subdued, “Don’t you think I tried? Aster can’t even eat. Can’t sleep. He’s in agony. And MiM has… Manny has chosen a new Guardian.”

“He’s right,” Aster replied, looking more and more haggard, “I’ve not slept in three days. Not even a wink. It’s like my skin is crawling under my fur. I just want it all to end. This new fellow is going to take my place. He’s a summer spirit named Johnny Appleseed. I met him last Easter. He feeds homeless children. I couldn’t have chosen someone better if I’d tried.”

Sandy’s sand pictures flickered about, one of them showing a few carrots and the other a medicine bottle.

“We tried that too,” North sighed, “He is not responding. It’s as if he has lost the will to live!”

“Sounds about right,” Aster replied softly, “Look, I just want you guys to promise me that you’ll check up on Johnny. Make sure he’s doing a decent job by the kids, okay?”

“This just… it’s just…” Toothiana sobbed, big tears rolling down her cheeks.

“We tried,” North replied miserably, pulling out a red plaid handkerchief and blowing his nose loudly, “Jack got his fever down, but even Sandy can’t get him to sleep! There is nothing we can do.”

Aster’s breathing had become laboured, “Help me up, North. Ah wanna go back to my Warren.”

“Why, Aster?” North pleaded, “You are welcome to spend your time here.”

“Nah,” Aster panted, “I just wanna be home. I’m not up for tearful goodbyes and handing off the torch to Appleseed.”

“I will get sleigh,” North decided, patting his shoulder gently.

“Oh no,” Aster groaned, “Not the sleigh. Put me on the ground, I’ll go home my way.”

“Can you manage?” Tooth wondered while Jack fought down his own frozen tears.

“Ah’ve got to try,” Aster replied.

North and Tooth helped him stand on shaky legs. He gave the ground a couple of weak thumps but nothing happened. He collapsed back into his chair with a smothered sob, clearly unwilling to cry in front of anyone. He gritted his teeth and pulled on his ears in frustration, growling angrily.

Jack stepped forward without thinking, “I can take you on the Wind. If we wrap you up you won’t be chilled and I can fly lower than Santa’s sleigh. It won’t be as nauseating.”

Aster’s ears tried to perk up, but there was no moving them. He did manage a weak but grateful half smile. Jack stepped forward and put his hand out to pull Aster’s arm over his shoulder, but the Pooka suddenly went limp the second Jack touched him. North caught him before he could crash to the floor since Jack didn’t have a proper hold on him yet and together they slipped him back into the chair.

“Aster? Aster!” North shouted, tapping his cheek, “Great Moon, he’s gone!”

“No,” Jack stammered, “He can’t be! Aster wake up!”

Jack grabbed him and shook him. Aster snored softly.

Jack and North straightened up, chuckling weakly as they glanced at each other in embarrassment over their dramatic antics.

“Maybe this is just what he needs,” Tooth suggested, “Maybe he’ll wake up refreshed and feel okay again?”

“We can only hope,” North replied.

Jack anxiously took the wheelchair and North led the way back to the room Aster had been staying in.

“Does he always stay here in summer?” Jack wondered.

“He comes when he falls ill,” North replied, “My Yeti’s know many remedies, some of which work on Pookas.”

“Gotcha.”

“What happened to you last time, Jack? I went in to check and you were gone. Aster was awake in bed and telling me he felt cold. I checked him and he seemed better. He went home, but… then he came back worse.”

“I just… you know… his fever broke so I figured I was done. I went home too.”

North seemed to accept this and Jack sighed in relief. They rolled into Aster’s room and Jack drew back the blankets so North could heave the sleeping Bunny into the bed. They covered him up and slipped out of the room to rejoin the others, North telling a Yeti outside his door to let them know the moment there were any changes. The three settled down around North’s shop, Tooth’s fairies picking on the elves while North paced anxiously.

“I will send yeti’s to fetch Appleseed,” North stated sadly.

“Is that necessary?” Jack asked, “Maybe he’ll be fine?”

Tooth shook her head, “Even if he survives, MiM picked someone else. He’s the next Guardian. Now, we just have to pray to MiM that…”

No sooner were Tooth’s words out of her mouth than a voice reached them.

“How long was I out?”

They turned to see Aster being wheeled back in by a confused and concerned Yeti. North pulled a pocket watch from his waistcoat and stared at it a moment.

“Eleven minutes, thirteen seconds.”

“Oh,” Aster replied, “That explains why I feel like I’ve barely slept.”

“You were out,” Jack stammered, “We couldn’t _wake_ you. We thought you were dead for a moment there.”

“Believe me, Frostbite,” Aster snorted, “Nobody wishes it were true more than me. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Huh?” Jack asked.

“I’d ask to meet her, but given I look like a train wreck I’d rather not see my own kind for the first time in centuries right now.”

“I repeat: huh?” Jack replied.

“What are you talking about?” Tooth asked.

“He’s delusional,” North whispered.

“I’m not delusional,” Aster grumbled, rubbing at his eyes miserably, “And I can still _hear_. I’m just tired and sickly like. I mean Jack’s recent marriage. To a Pooka. Odd, that. I thought I was the last. In fact I was sure.”

Aster gave him an accusing glare, but Jack was just staring at him in concern, “Oh Moon, he _is_ delusional. He thinks I’m married to a seven foot kangaroo rabbit!”

“I can _smell_ it on you,” Aster replied, “Look I don’t have the energy to be mad about you keeping her a secret. Just tell me what she’s like. You got a picture? Or you can make one of those ice sculptures. C’mon, Jack. I haven’t seen one of my own in centuries. Indulge me.”

Jack sniffed himself in confusion. Sandy helped. Even the Yeti gave him a whiff. They all shrugged.

Aster sighed and shook his head miserably, “Maybe my mind is going. I wish this dying thing would speed up.”

“Don’t say that,” Tooth sniffled.

“Come on, Phil,” Aster grumbled to the Yeti, “Ah’m depressing everyone. Back to my room.”

“You don’t want a lift back to your Warren?” Jack asked, hoping to talk to the Pooka alone.

“Nah,” Aster sighed, “Ah’m too tired. Don’t care anymore. ‘Sides, you’ve got someone to go home to. I think.”

“Do you?” North wondered.

“No!” Jack hissed, “Don’t you think I’d tell him if I ran into a lady Pooka?”

“It’d be a waste,” Tooth snickered, “He prefers the boy ones!”

“He does?” Jack asked in surprise.

“Yes!” Tooth giggled, “It’s supposed to be a secret, but now that he’s dying… surprise!”

“That’s kinda not okay,” Jack chided her, but he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, “Bunny a shirt lifter. Who’d have thought?”

“What about you, Jack?” Tooth asked.

“Me?” Jack laughed miserably, “I’d go for anyone that would have me without freezing over. It’s kinda hard to get close to someone when they’re constantly trying to get warm because of you. Look, I’m worried about Bunny. I’m going to go talk to him. Or sing him a lullaby. Or something.”

Jack slipped into the room and hurried to Aster’s side. The rabbit was lying still with his eyes open a slit, his breathing shallow. His normally shiny fur was dull and matted. Jack thought he was asleep at first, but when he moved closer the eyes moved beneath the slit lids to stare at him.

“Huh,” Aster uttered, apparently too weak for more.

“I’m sorry I don’t know another Pooka, Bunny. I bet that would help,” Jack said softly, reaching out to tuck him in better.

Aster’s eyes fell closed and Jack sat down on the side of the bed, watching his breath become even and the muscles around his eyes relax. The summer weighed heavily on Jack and he soon snuggled down on top of the blankets to sleep as well. He figured there was no harm seeing as Aster was weakened and he was… well, he was losing his lover in a sense.

Jack woke up what felt like ages later and sat up, stretching contentedly. He felt good. He glanced at the wall clock and realized he’d been asleep sixteen hours! Well, that explained why he felt rested. Then he remembered where he was and why and turned slowly to stare down at Bunnymund. He was sleeping peacefully, a small smile twitching across his face. Jack stroked his ears tenderly a moment before remembering he didn’t _have_ that right and pulled away to leave. Tooth was gone but North was still there, reading a book at his large desk while grumbling to himself.

“He’s still asleep,” Jack told him softly, “Maybe he really will be okay.”

“Perhaps,” North muttered, “Something he said is bothering me.”

“Yeah?” Jack asked, leaning over his desk to look at the book. It was written in strange round symbols.

“This is Pookahn,” North explained, “Aster leant it to me and I… forgot to return it. It talks about their culture among other things. According to this, you would be hard pressed to _not_ know that you were mated to a Pooka.”

“Considering a wedding is usually a pretty awesome party, I think you guys would know too. Like I wouldn’t have invited you!”

“I’d hope you wouldn’t invite me to a _Pooka_ wedding!” North chuckled before lowering his voice to a whisper, “It happens in bed and a _lot_ of fluids are exchanged.”

“Fl-fluids?” Jack asked, his voice cracking.

“Ja, including blood,” North replied, turning a page to show a lewd drawing of two adorable looking Pooka doing very filthy things to each other. One was biting the other’s neck _just like Aster had bitten his_!

Jack’s eyes must have been as wide as saucers because North pushed him down into a chair.

“The thing about Pooka is they mate for life,” North continued, as if Jack wasn’t hyperventilating in a nearby chair. He just handed him a sack to breathe into. It smelled like candy canes, “If they go too long without the other- especially soon after mating- they become weak and depressed. They stop eating, stop sleeping, and eventually… they die.”

“Oh MiM!” Jack panted into his sack.

“Would you like to tell me what happened last time you were here _now_ , Jack?” North asked, pulling up a chair to sit opposite and placing two meaty hands on his knees so he could lean forward and stare into Jack’s eyes. He looked angry, his eyes dangerous, “What prank have you pulled?”

“There might have been some fluids,” Jack whimpered, “Does this mean… does it mean he’s in _love_ with me?”

North shook his head, “You’ll have to ask him that. He seems unaware of your bonding. Perhaps he thinks it was dream.”

“Wh-what do I have to do? To make him better?” Jack wondered, his hope dropping to the ground.

“He cannot sleep on his own,” North replied, “Without you there he will whither and die. He needs you nearby to eat as well. By next spring that will stop and you will only have to spend time with him every once in a while.”

“Just… just near, or… do I have to be in the same bed?” Jack asked miserably. He was already dreaming over and again about Aster’s touch. If he spent a year in bed with him and then was dumped on his arse he’d become the Guardian of Despair!

“Jack,” North frowned, “You took advantage of him when he was sick. I realize you are permanently stuck as a teenager, but that doesn’t mean you have to behave like one! Take responsibility! This time you have gone _too far!_ ”

“Okay,” Jack nodded, “Okay. I will. I’ll try. What if I sleep on top of the covers?”

North sighed, rubbing at his forehead, “He will not bite you again, if that’s what worries you. That only happens once.”

Jack nodded, “That’s good, I guess.”

Jack stood and walked slowly towards Aster’s bedchamber. North trailed behind him, but Jack was careful not to look at him. He opened the door slowly and peered in at Aster. He was awake again and staring miserably into a bowl of soup. He wasn’t eating.

“H-hey Aster,” Jack forced a smile onto his face, “Mind if I sit with you?”

“Kinda not in the mood for company, Frostbite,” Aster replied with a heavy sigh.

Jack glanced at North who glared at him, so Jack slipped into the room and sat on the side of the bed anyway. North cleared his throat and Jack flushed crimson.

“You two deaf?” Aster grumbled, giving them irritated glares, “Damn you smell good, Jack. Did you just see her?”

“Who?” Jack asked.

“Jack isn’t married to another Pooka, Aster,” North informed him, nudging Jack to get him to explain it. Jack avoided the conversation by snatching up Aster’s spoon and guiding it to his mouth.

Aster opened his mouth to argue and found it full of carrot soup. For a moment he paused, then swallowed, a worried look on his face. He rubbed his stomach and stared down at the bowl.

“I’ll be. It’s staying down!” Aster stated happily, “Maybe I _have_ got a chance of recovering!”

“Jack,” North nudged Jack again, “Tell Aster what you did.”

“What did you do?” Aster asked, head snapping up and eyes narrowing, “If my Warren’s been…”

“I’m so sorry!” Jack stammered, “I tried to stop you, it’s just… you’re so much stronger than I am and…” _And no one’s ever touched me before…_

Aster gave Jack a confused look while North looked alarmed, “What do you mean, you tried to stop him?”

“Just… try to eat more, okay?” Jack replied, his voice cracking miserably, “Here.”

Aster stopped him from pressing the soup on him again, “Tried to stop me from what?”

Jack sighed miserably and pulled his shirt aside to show the bruised and scabbed over wound on his shoulder. Aster stared at it a moment, and then leaned in and sniffed it.

“Oh MiM,” Aster whispered, “There’s no other Pooka, is there?”

Jack shook his head miserably, “I’m sorry.”

“Jack?” North tried again, “What do you mean ‘tried to stop’ him?”

“I was just trying to keep your fever down,” Jack replied miserably, his head bowed, “I didn’t _mean_ to take advantage of you. Just… please eat?”

Aster pushed the food away, his face twisted in horror, “I think you should leave, Jack.”

“Please eat,” Jack tried again, picking up the bowl.

“North, get him out of here,” Aster pleaded, giving his old friend a panicked look.

“Ja,” North replied, and grasped Jack’s hoodie to pull him backwards out the door.

“But you said…” Jack stammered.

“Forget what I said,” North replied, “Jack, forgive me. I thought… never mind what I thought. Go home, Jack. Don’t concern yourself with Aster. I’ll take him back to his Warren.”

“He’s scared of the sleigh…”

“He’ll deal,” North replied harshly.

Jack winced, “I swear I never meant for this to happen.”

“I know, Jack. Go on. I know how summer makes you tired.”

Jack slipped out the window and let the wind carry him, but without him giving it direction it took him wherever it wanted. He ended up at ‘home’, though the lake wasn’t frozen this time of year so it didn’t feel very homey to him. He sat on the rocks and stared down at it in misery while waiting for life to start making sense. He’d been so _aroused_. He’d never realized how amazing someone else’s touch could feel until that moment. Since it had happened he’d dreamt about Aster more times than he could count. He _wanted_ him, and he could see himself falling hard for the Pooka, but he knew now that there would be nothing but resentment from Bunny.

_And now he’s going to die. Because of me._

Jack wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he could cry but feeling too angry to do so. Instead he stared at the sleeves of his hoodie and… _my hoodie!_

Up into the wind once again, this time directing them towards Australia. He just hoped he’d get there in time.

Jack snuck into the Warren and searched for a while until he found Aster’s burrow. It had wisteria hanging in long drapes around and over the entrance and Jack had passed it three times before he heard North’s voice from within. He snuck up to the entrance and slipped into the burrow, following the long passage until he reached a large kitchen area. Three passages branched off from that, one going down sharply while the other two moved down at a milder incline. Jack played a guessing game and then took the one to the left with the steep incline. It led to a pantry full of food, most of it vegetables. Back up he went, but North was in the kitchen now puttering around. He slipped past him and down the right path where he found what he was looking for. Bunnymund’s bedroom.

Aster was spread out on the bed looking sickly and weak, small whimpers of agony leaving his mouth with each breath. His bed was a nest of grass, pine needles, and what looked to be his own fur in a bowl-shaped recession in the ground. It looked comfortable and smelled beautiful. Jack stared at him miserably for a moment and then slipped off his hoodie and approached his nest. He carefully lifted Aster’s head, noting that his breathing evened out a bit, and placed his folded clothing beneath the Pooka’s head. Then he backed up until he was in the passageway entrance. Aster turned his head and pressed his face into the cloth, sighing happily. He continued to sleep peacefully.

Jack slipped out the way he had come, narrowly avoiding North once again, and fled for colder regions. He’d return in a few days with another shirt bearing his scent to exchange for the one he’d left behind.

XXX

Aster woke up with a splitting headache, but the smell of food was a source of immediate longing for him so that was an improvement. North knelt at his nest-side and spooned him soup, but Aster could only think of the one time Jack had done so.

“He left me that?”

“A day ago. You ate once since then and slept the rest of the time.”

“Is he okay?”

“No idea,” North replied, “I sent word to Tooth to look after him.”

“Poor Snowflake,” Aster sighed, “Why did you let me keep this?”

Aster ran his fingers along the drawstring of the hoodie.

“You need it to live.”

“Yeah, but last I checked I don’t deserve to live.”

“You weren’t aware of what you did to Jack.”

“No, but that hardly makes it okay. You saw his face. He was whiter than… well… snow! He was terrified of me! Now what? He keeps giving me his shirts until I can live without him? That’s not an existence I want for either of us.”

“It was his choice. He thought of it himself, you know.”

“Mm,” Aster grunted, accepting more soup, “Will you check on him?”

“If it means you’ll stop asking, yes,” North grumbled, “But I doubt he’ll want to see me since I accused _him_ of taking advantage of _you._ ”

“Him take advantage of me?” Aster snorted, “Tha’s just ridiculous.”

North rolled his eyes and left to fetch more soup.

XXX

Jack meant to leave the hoodie on the table and quickly escape the burrow. Aster was up and about according to North, who kept apologizing for some odd reason, so Jack didn’t want him to see him and get upset. It had to be awful for him, needing his _rapist_ to live. Jack didn’t want to upset him more by hovering around. Except Aster caught him before he could leave.

“Jack,” Aster’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks, “Look, I won’t ask you to stay just… I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Everyone says you are but you went through a hell of an ordeal because of me. I am sorry, for what it’s worth.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jack replied, glancing over his shoulder without looking at him full on, “If I were just stronger…”

“Don’t blame yourself. Don’t ever do that,” Aster said softly, “I just wish I could make this all disappear, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jack laughed bitterly, “I bet.”

“Thanks for the hoodie. I didn’t know you’d be here today or I’d have had the last one washed.”

“That’s okay,” Jack replied.

“Want me to get it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Aster left and Jack waited until he thumped back into sight. He put it on the table and took up its replacement. Jack hedged backwards, not turning to face Aster, and snatched up his hoodie. He fled out of the burrow in a hurry. He didn’t hear Aster’s sad sigh behind him and Aster didn’t see Jack press the hoodie to his face to breathe in the Pooka’s scent.


	6. Chapter 6

“Oh thank goodness!” A breathy voice sounded behind John.

John straightened up from where he’d been rooting in the soil to stare in surprise at the Tooth Fairie.

“Wow,” John smiled, brushing dirt off his hands, “It’s an honour, my lady.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet!” Toothiana blushed, “Is it true your teeth are made of wood?”

She bolted forward and pried John’s lips open to study his teeth.

“Oh! They’re _real!!”_

“Ob cour dey awe,” John stammered around her fingers, finally taking her by both slender wrists and pulling her back, “Ahem, can I help you?”

“Oh! Please excuse me, I completely forgot! I’m supposed to be summoning you!”

“Summoning me?” John asked.

Tooth cleared her throat and straightened up, her tiny tooth fairies flittering around her and making a trumpeting noise, “Johnny Appleseed, on behalf of the Guardians of Childhood and the Man in the Moon I hearby summon you to Santoff Claussen to take up your post as the Guardian of Satisfaction!”

John raised an eyebrow, “No offense, sister, but you’re not my type.”

“Sorry?” She asked in confusion.

“I’m into blokes.”

Toothiana sighed, “You and all the other good looking ones. I’m not propositioning you for _that_. You fight hunger ergo Guardian of Satisfaction.”

John scowled, “I fight _starvation_. I hardly think _satisfaction_ is an adequate description.”

“Oh, sorry. What would you prefer?”

“To be left alone,” John groused, “While you lot have been catering to the wealthy I’ve been taking care of the destitute. You want to tell me why poor kids don’t get presents and coins from you?”

“Um… well…” Tooth shifted miserably, “They don’t exactly have pillows…”

“Technicalities? Really?!” John snapped, “Two years ago you lot gave away Christmas presents and eggs for teeth. Where was your tradition then?”

“That was an emergency,” Toothiana replied frantically, “All my fairies had been captured and…”

“Your excuses are bullshit and you know it. Call me when you and Santa give presents to the kids living in boxes on the streets and the tweens prostituting themselves to thirty-year old perverts.”

“Well,” Tooth struggled, “Maybe you could come with me and Santa him why _he_ doesn’t?”

John hesitated on his way back to the soil he’d been working in and glared over his shoulder at her, “You know what? Yeah. I will.”

XXX

John stepped through the snowglobe portal into Santoff Claussen, ignored the wonders around him, and marched straight up to Nicholas St. North. The man was a good two feet taller than he was, dressed in a wealth of bright colours, and didn’t have dirt scattered over his person like John did. John stabbed him in the chest with one finger and stared up at him with all the commanding air of a man used to having his orders followed.

“Where the _hell_ do you get off, son?”

“Eh?” North stammered, “I what?”

“Where do you get off picking and choosing which children get to enjoy Christmas? Which kids get to experience happiness? Which kids are _worthy_ of getting a gift or two?”

“It is simple,” North replied, frowning in annoyance, “Good children get gifts, bad children get coal.”

“And you get to decide that, do you?” John snapped, “You get to decide that stealing in order to get _food_ is a naughty act? That selling him or herself is _wrong_ when it’s their only chance at survival?”

“I give them coal because it would suit them more to heat themselves around a fire than to have a toy that someone will steal,” North replied sadly, his anger draining out.

“And there it is,” John snapped, “The righteous statement of the ignorant upper class. ‘Are there no prisons? And the union workhouses- are they still in operation?’*”

“Now see here!” North shouted.

“No, _you_ see here!” John raged, “Those children have less than nothing! Not even self respect! You claim to be the Guardians of Childhood, but they haven’t even got a _childhood_!”

“And this,” Tooth stated, stepping between them and shoving them apart, “Is clearly why you’ve been called. You were right, John. Satisfaction was the wrong word. Charity fits you better.”

“Welfare,” John snapped, “Welfare fits me better, and snobs fits you lot!”

Sandman was fuming as he stepped forward, flitting pictures of various children through his sand thoughts.

“Yeah, okay,” John nodded, calming a bit, “ _You_ do treat the children as equals… come to think of it so does Easter Bunny. Where is he, by the way? His eggs feed my children once a year, but I wanted to talk to him about making it a year-round thing. I’ve not seen him in decades so…”

John paused, sensing the deep sadness around him.

“He’s no longer a Guardian,” Toothiana replied, “His life is… in danger. We’re not sure how much longer he’ll last.”

“This is why you have been called,” North spoke up, “If you find us lacking than I encourage you to fill in the gap.”

North’s glare stated it as a challenge and John’s eyes narrowed again.

“I don’t have to be a part of your little elitist group to help the kids.”

“Look,” A pale-blue young man stood up from where he was sulking in a corner, drawing John’s attention to him for the first time, “I felt the same way when I joined up. These guys had treated me as a pest for _centuries_. I was sick of it and not into becoming all chummy with them.”

“Who are you?” John asked, blinking in surprise at the young thing in front of him leaning on a staff as if he were far older than he appeared.

“Jack Frost,” Jack replied, “Newest guardian and still not overly popular or well known. Which brings me to my point: I’m _getting_ well known now. And while I’m doing that I’m making a bigger difference in children’s lives. I don’t care about rich or poor either, and I do my best to help children in cold areas get away from my storms. I’m the Guardian of Fun, but right now I’m fucking _depressed_. We don’t know why Bunny suddenly fell sick, but we think it had something to do with Pitch.”

“Who?”

“Pitch. The Nightmare King,” North replied pounding one meaty fist into the other hand, “Twice we have defeated him yet he continues to return.”

“Not doing such a good job of it, are you?” John groused.

Jack chuckled, “Apparently not. We can banish him but not kill him off. Fear is immortal.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

“He plagues _your_ children- as you call them- far more than anyone else’s,” Jack informed him, “Your children hide in the shadows where he lives, they don’t have the safety of bedrooms and parent’s kisses. Trust me- I know.”

John shifted miserably. Jack seemed like the sort of child he usually had to care for, yet he was unfamiliar with him.

“What do you want from me?” John asked with a heavy sigh.

“Help us,” Jack replied, “Help us stop him before he takes another of us away. Easter isn’t _gone_ , not if I can help it, but if he gets to all of us _no_ children will be happy or safe or content ever again.”

John sighed, shaking his head in disgust as he pointed at Santa and Tooth, “Fine, but this doesn’t mean I like you two.”

_*John is quoting E. Scrooge from A Christmas Carol by Dickens when asked to contribute to charity for the poor. His response shows that he deems the poor responsible for their state and therefore not his problem even on the holiday. They should go to places reserved for them- regardless of how abysmal those places are- so he can save his hard-earned money. The response of the charity collectors was “Many can’t go there” “And some would rather die”. Ebenezer went on to encourage them to do so and “decrease the surplus population”._


	7. Chapter 7

Aster and North were playing chess and Aster was losing. He was having trouble concentrating. I was the annual Midsummer Night party and all the magical beings had gathered to celebrate the longest night of the year and Johnny Appleseeds addition into the Guardians of Childhood. Aster hadn’t greeted him yet and had no intention of doing so. He wasn’t angry with him, but he didn’t care for all of the pitying looks people were throwing him. Jack wasn’t in a better mood apparently; he was yawning in a corner with Sandman, the two of them making a narcoleptic pair.

Aster was driven to distraction by the sight of Jack. Ever since he’d fully healed from his mystery ailment he’d been thinking of the winter spirit. What had it been like to hold him? Touch him? Aster had no recollection of their bonding, had no idea what he’d done to Jack, and while he felt horribly guilty and worried that he’d caused the spirit irreparable emotional and mental damage… he was also aroused. His body had awoken from a centuries long slumber and recalled that there were other bodies around him. He was suddenly very, very aware that Jack was male and _gorgeous_. He was also his mate. Even if neither of them had wanted it at the time, Aster wanted it now. He wanted to hold someone, touch them, love them, spend hours stroking their hair. He wanted to feel hands on his ears, gripping his hips, hot breathe on his fur…

“Checkmate!” North shouted.

“Hm? Oh, tha’s great. Good game,” Aster muttered.

“You’ll only make it worse by staring at him.”

“Every three days he shows up, never misses a time no matter how beat he looks, and drops one off for me. We rotate them, you know? He said he prefers to clean them himself so I stopped washing them for him.”

“That’s disgusting,” North stated in a matter of fact tone, “You are wanting to play again?”

“Hm? Sure. Go ahead. I’ll be black this time.”

“You were black last time. That’s how I won. You kept moving my pieces to defeat yourself.”

“Do you think he… I dunno… do you think he’d give me a chance?”

“To win at chess? Sure. Jack loves to win games. It’s practically his centre.”

“Nah, to be his mate.”

North froze and narrowed his eyes at Aster, “Humans don’t mate for life, Aster. Don’t do this. You have good arrangement. Let your time of need pass and then _maybe_ you two can be friends again someday. A very _big_ maybe.”

“Tooth told me he’s sad a lot. She doesn’t know what happened.”

“I decided telling her would embarrass you both.”

“She’s worried he won’t be able to make snow in winter. I’m not as worried about Easter as I should be. I’m worried about _winter_. Weird, yeah?”

“This conversation was less tiring the first three times we had it,” North sighed.

“We’ve had this conversation before?”

“Many, many times. Just let him go, Aster. You never expected to have a mate before, now you still don’t have one. You and Jack barely tolerated each other before this, now you still don’t. Nothing has changed.”

“Except me. And Jack. And the fact I need him to live. I’m a selfish bunny, you know that?”

“This is the part you tell me you want him to need you.”

“I mean, sometimes I’m jealous that he doesn’t need _me_ to live. Selfish of me.”

“Incredibly. Checkmate.”

“Huh? Oh, good game.”

“I’m going to go… be anywhere but here,” North fled to the other side of the room.

Aster sat there staring at Jack for a while and then worked up the courage. Jack would feel safer around him in a room full of people, right? It would be okay.

Jack looked up in alarm, his eye widening as Aster approached him from across the crowded floor. He paused and cleared his throat, waking Sandy up in the process. Jack thought he might have meant to.

“I’m ah… I’m having a bad run at chess. Want to join the ranks of those who have savagely beaten me at it?” Aster tried.

Jack leaned to the side and glanced back at the board, “Someone else just took the table. Maybe next time.”

“Yeah sure,” Aster replied, “Well… later.”

“Do you want to…” Jack paused, looking around himself for an opportunity to keep Aster there. Sandy threw up an image and Jack blurted it out without thinking, “Dance with me?”

Jack blushed a soft lilac while Aster preened in front of him, “I’d love to.”

Aster held out his hand and Jack stepped up, taking it hesitantly. Aster led him out to the middle of the floor and pulled him just a _bit_ closer. Jack was on cloud nine. Even if Aster didn’t want to dance pressed against each other at least they were close enough that he could stare at him without needing an excuse! In fact, he could _smell_ him, they were so close. He loved that warm smell. Like freshly mowed grass and sweet herbs. Jack smiled and Aster smiled back, leaving Jack to wonder if their friendship at least was salvageable.

“This is… good,” Jack tried, “We can manage this.”

“Yeah we can,” Aster replied, his voice deep, “I was telling North we should try. He doesn’t want me scaring you off, but you’re no wilting flower.”

Jack laughed a bit, “Not me, no.”

“I just… I just want a _chance_ is all. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’d like to earn it.”

“A chance?” Jack wondered, “Deserve what?”

“A chance to fix our friendship, if possible,” Aster replied hopefully.

“I’d like that,” Jack replied gratefully, “It’s been killing me, you know, us having all this stuff between us.”

“Me too,” Aster nodded, “We got off on the wrong foot and then just when we finally were on even footing…”

“I know,” Jack replied, ducking his head, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not your fault.”

“That’s what North says,” Jack sighed, “It sure feels like it’s my fault.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Aster insisted, “Let it go, Jack.”

“I’ll try. If you think it means we can be pals again.”

Aster grinned and pulled him a bit closer and Jack chuckled, wrapping his arms around Aster’s neck to begin tugging him around the room awkwardly, throwing off the rhythm of their dance.

“Show pony,” Aster grumbled, roughing him up a bit. Jack laughed and took off across the room with Aster in hot pursuit while North watched from the corner with worry creasing his brow.


	8. Chapter 8

“Can you believe them?” Pitch growled to Sherlock.

Sherlock kept his head down. He was wrapped tightly in a long black cloak to hide himself from John and had introduced himself as Halloween despite the fact the holiday had no official spirit attached to it. Yet. It was his intention to take over that holiday and impress John once again. For now he was no one, just a spirit who coloured the leaves and had a few followers in angsty teenagers who loved creepy movies. Soon he would be the someone John had admired once again. He had no cases to solve as a spirit, but if he became one of the Guardians… yet he had no lure towards children as the other Guardians did. They were all sweet and charming while Sherlock was cold and calculating. He much favoured Pitches idea that children needed adversity to thrive, though he wasn’t fool enough to not notice that he was using that as a cover to be truly evil and cruel; Another Moriarty who could have so easily been a Sherlock had he tried to benefit society rather than benefiting _from_ it. Still, his company wasn’t appalling and he was giving Sherlock plenty of tips on how to gain more followers.

The party, however, was an exercise in skin-crawling frustration. He wanted John to be staring admiration at _him_ , not being admired and fawned over by others. It felt off. The order and balance of their relationship was destroyed. Sherlock _could_ just stand up and walk up to him…

 _“Watson_ , _” Sherlock whispered in John’s ear._

_“Holmes?” John turned, his eyes lighting up in that way they did when he was near, then he’d fumble and tug on his ragged clothes as he tried to keep his English dignity in place._

_“Yes, old friend. Can you ever forgive me for leaving you?”_

Then what? They’d fall into each other’s arms as Sherlock had always imagined? Unlikely. They were in a room full of people and while the world had changed to accept such blatant displays of perversion, John and Sherlock were frozen in time. His friend would smile and shake his hand and Sherlock would allow them to go back to their usual pattern. No. He had to push this along. He had already missed a lifetime in this man’s arms, knowing full well how John felt for him and yet always keeping him at arm’s length. Now he was certain that they had a different destiny. He _had_ to break that barrier, and John had to be the one to break it. Sherlock couldn’t revert to the passions the way he wished, it wasn’t in him, but if John took him into his arms than Sherlock would happily follow where his captain led.

So he waited, head down and eyes glued to the figure of his patchwork friend. An odd pair waltzed in front of him at one point and he ground his teeth in anger at the sight of two males so close to each other and obviously flirting. How _dare_ the world deny him that happiness!

“Yes,” Pitch purred, “That’s right. _Hate them_.”

“You’re beginning to bore me again,” Sherlock snarled.

Pitch only laughed, his mirth drawing the stares of worried spirits around him. This party was for all spirits but it was obvious that Pitch and his shadowy companion were less than welcome. Sherlock was fine with that. He was quite familiar with being the unsociable one in a room full of chattering fools. 


	9. Chapter 9

“Bunny!” Jack called, “Got my sweater here for you!”

“It’s ‘Aster’, Jack. You might as well use my first name,” Aster stepped into the kitchen with a heavy sigh. His eyes were red and he looked worse for wear. It was a month from winter and he was both worried about Jack and uninterested in his own holiday. Jack was tired all the time so it was hard to tell if he was still depressed or just suffering from the season.

“What’s wrong?” Jack worried.

“You slept in, mate,” Aster replied, “It’s been five days. Your scent doesn’t last that long.”

“Damn, I’m sorry. You okay?”

“Tired and hungry, but I’ll survive,” Aster replied as he sat down at his kitchen table with a yawn, “You okay?”

“It’s just hard me travelling during the summer,” Jack yawned.

“Yer welcome to stay in the Warren till this year-long mess is over. There are a few other burrows. Yer welcome to make one yours.”

“Y-yeah?” Jack asked.

“Pantry’s usually pretty chilly, that might suit you,” Aster suggested gathering the sweater Jack had brought and wrapping it in his arms. He put his head down on it and passed right out.

Jack hesitated, watching Aster snore with his head on his hoodie. He inched closer and then reached out to stroke a hand along Aster’s silken ear. He shivered in his sleep, moaning softly and arching a bit into his touch. Jack bravely stroked his ears again.

“Jaaack,” Aster groaned, “Please.”

Jack pulled away in horror. He was doing it again! Violating Aster while he slept! He hurried out of the burrow and into the heat of the summer day. He instantly slowed down, wishing he didn’t have a long flight back to the South Pole to deal with. As much as he wanted to give Aster his space he also wanted to _rest_. Jack decided to search for one of the other burrows like Aster had suggested. It had taken him ages just to find Aster’s burrow, but now that he knew what to look for he figured it would be easier. He searched near the water, figuring it would be cooler there, but then realized they’d probable collapse near the water. He searched along the edges and around trees and found a burrow beneath the roots of a large tree. He slipped inside to find it dusty and cob-web riddled, but otherwise nice and cool. It was set up much like Aster’s, so he followed the left fork down the steep incline to the nice, cold cellar. There he started cleaning up a bit and collapsed onto the ground as soon as he had some space clean enough to stretch out in.

XXX

Aster sniffed his way into Jack’s new dwelling. He knew the guardian had stayed, but he hadn’t found the area right away due to his scent being dispersed all over the Warren. Once he’d located the larrikin he’d set about helping the sleepy spirit tidy up his new home. He cleaned out the years of debris and opened up a few windows to air it out. Only the tunnels on the south side had any windows so he couldn’t air out all of them as he didn’t want to disturb Jack by opening the doors to the rest of the rooms. He did the best he could and then stocked his cupboards with a few odds and ends. Finally he left Jack a note and headed home to bathe and turn in.

XXX

Jack woke with a pounding headache and headed up to the kitchen to hopefully manage getting water out of the pump there. He found to his surprise that the kitchen had been tidied and a basket of fresh fruits and vegetables sat in the middle of the table along with a note.

_Jack,_

_I wanted to be neighbourly and welcome you into your home-away-from-home so I cleaned up a bit and stocked your pantry. Don’t worry I didn’t go into the cold cellar. Wouldn’t want to disturb sleeping show-pony. There are some blankets in the first bedroom and a bag of bedding. Not sure if you’d use any of that, but it’s there if you want it._

_Aster_

Jack smiled and tucked into the food with gusto, downing a few glasses of nice cold water. After his meal he headed for the master bedroom to find two folded quilts and a cloth bag full up of leaves, straw, pine needles, and… _Aster’s fur!_ Jack stared at the mixture in wonder, figuring the Pooka probably had _no_ idea how precious what he’d just given Jack was to him. Most likely the Bunny took for granted that those sorts of things were what beds were made of, while to Jack it was as if he’d just handed him _Aster’s_ sweater to keep him company at night.

Jack tied up the bag to preserve the contents, headed for the cellar, and dug out a bowl-shaped recess using a stick he located from outside. He filled it with Aster’s gift and then laid both quilts across it. Studying his new bed he found himself a bit misty-eyed. In winter he felt as if he belonged and was useful, but despite the fact he was now a guardian there was simply nowhere that felt like _his_ during the summer. He went to the South Pole, but that was only because it was cold and Santoff Claussen was in the North Pole. He had to go _someplace_. Still, it was lonely in the South Pole and he’d often wondered if he should go someplace else. Russia or Canada or Greenland. Someplace nice and cold but that had actual people in it. Jack visited those places during the summer, but he’d never found a place that felt _right_ to him. This felt right. This felt _wonderful_. He doubted he’d put the rest of the place to much use, but just the fact he _had_ someplace, that Aster had made room for him in his Warren, was a gift he was certain he could never repay.

Then Jack had an idea and headed back out into the Warren. It was night time by now so he was certain Aster would be asleep. He crept into his burrow and collected a razor from his bathroom, a pair of scissors from his study, and a bowl from his kitchen. He then sat himself down at the kitchen table and carefully cut off his hair, shaving what was left when he was through. It would grow back in a few months, and in the mean time it wasn’t as if he had someone to impress. Jack scribbled out a note and returned home completely exhausted.

XXX

_Aster,_

_For your bed._

_Jack_

Aster was treating the gift from Jack like gold. Since he changed his bedding regularly putting it in there would be useless. He’d end up having to pick them all out or throw them all out in a few months time. Instead he found some spare cloth and used his tiniest stitch to sew a small bag into which he dropped each and every strand, down to the tiniest bit. Then he sewed the bag shut using his tiniest stitch. Then he sewed another bag around it just to make sure the _really_ tiny hairs didn’t escape. Then he made arms, a head, ears, and legs, stuffed with boring stuffing, and attached them just so to make himself a stuffed bunny rabbit. He added a pair of buttons for eyes. Finally he selected a few fabric paints and painted the entire stuffed bunny in shades of light blue and white, using a combination of his own Easter patterns and snowflakes.

Aster held the finished project to his face and breathed in deeply. Jack’s scent wasn’t strong on it, but the fact that a part of Jack was in there meant he would sleep well at night. Hair took ages to decompose so he was going to have this long after Jack stopped coddling him. Comforted by his work Aster stretched, made and ate lunch, and headed out to his garden to do the work he _should_ have been doing that morning.


	10. Chapter 10

“Boo!” Sherlock laughed, watching as the children jumped, screamed, and ran from him in alarm.

Pitch laughed as well, picking up a piece of abandoned candy from the ground, unwrapping it, and popping it in his mouth, “You’re doing _so_ well.”

“They’re amusing in their own way,” Sherlock replied, “Still, this is hardly the afterlife I wished to lead. I’m uninterested in children fearing me.”

“I _told_ you, tails get you more believers. More believers make you stronger.”

“I can’t help but notice that _you_ are benefiting from this as well as more than one has mistaken _me_ for the Boogie Man or a Nightmare.”

Pitch huffed in disgust and turned away from him, glancing towards a house, “This has been fun Shirley, but that house is full of sleeping brats and I feel a nightmare coming on. Ta ta!”

Sherlock harrumphed and Pitch flew off on a black cloud of misery. Sherlock was bitter and angry whenever he was around Pitch and he was beginning to suspect that the spirit was having an affect on him that he couldn’t control. He found himself feeling unspeakably cruel, imagining doing far worse than surprising the children. Perhaps he’d interfere with Pitch’s nightmares by scaring a few children so badly that they didn’t sleep for several nights…

“H-hello?” A soft voice called.

Sherlock turned sharply and stared down at a plump little girl who was wearing a unicorn costume. She stood there with her bag of candy and stared up at Sherlock cautiously.

“Hello,” Sherlock replied, brushing away some of Pitch’s lingering black fog.

“Are you one of Pitch’s nightmares? Because if you are… I’m _not_ afraid of you!”

With that she put a hand out and shoved him hard in the gut. Sherlock stepped back, startled by her actions, but she seemed even more alarmed as she stared at him.

“You didn’t change!”

“Change?” Sherlock asked, trembling in fear. Her touch had altered something inside of him. The black rage that had formed around his heart had quite suddenly dispersed and left him… exposed. He felt vulnerable and _afraid_.

“Who or what are you?” She asked, “I thought you were a nightmare because you were talking to Pitch but… you didn’t change into gold dust.”

“I’m… I’m Jack Skellington. Or Sherlock Holmes. Whichever you prefer.”

“You don’t look like either,” She replied.

“Sherlock Skellington, then,” Sherlock replied, straightening up and clutching at his chest as his heart beat a wild tattoo in his ribcage.

“Okay. My friends call me Cupcake.”

“Then I shall endevour to call you by your proper name as soon as I figure it out.”

Cupcake frowned, “You shouldn’t hang out around Pitch. He makes you sad and angry inside. Just you wait till Jack comes back.”

“Frost?” Sherlock clarified.

“Yeah, Jack Frost. This is his _home_ , and he doesn’t stand for Pitch hanging out around here in winter.”

“The summer has been long,” Sherlock replied, glancing around him, “I’ve been struggling to get the leaves to turn.”

“Yeah, it’s seriously hot,” Cupcake frowned, “I’m roasting in this stupid costume. So you change the leaves? Are you, like, fall or something?”

“Something,” Sherlock replied, studying the young girl curiously, “I should like to speak with this Jack Frost. How do you summon him?”

“You ask the wind,” She replied, “Duh.”

“Thank you, Miss…?”

“Cupcake,” She replied stubbornly.

“I’ll call you Mary, then. It’s common enough for such a common little girl.”

“I’m not common!” She snapped, “And my name isn’t Mary! It’s Cupcake!”

Sherlock paused, eyes roving over her again. It had been too long since he stretched his mind and utilized his science of deduction but as he did so he realized something surprising. This was no girl. This was a boy. Or, perhaps he should be more accurate to say this was a _trans_ girl. Cupcake was biologically male but presenting as female. Yet she had friends. He could see them watching her from a distance, apparently not brave enough to approach as she had been. They looked worried and Sherlock felt a pang of longing.

“ _He_ used to worry about me like that,” Sherlock muttered out loud.

“Jack?” Cupcake asked in confusion.

“No. Someone else. Someone… special. I was mistaken, Cupcake. You are _not_ common. Remember that.”

Sherlock turned sharply and stepped onto the moonbeam nearest him to ascend into the sky. Cupcake let out an excited whoop and waved farewell to him. Sherlock hesitated and then gave her a shy wave in return. Her friends were inching out from their hiding places and swarming her, wondering who he had been and questioning her thoroughly. They joined her in waving to him and Sherlock turned away quickly as a sharp stab went through his heart again.

 _Hope_.

XXX

“This is seriously pissing me off,” Jack grumbled, landing in Aster’s garden and hurrying over, “I can’t get Wind to listen to me!”

“You were just flying, can’t be having that much trouble,” Aster replied, placing another flower into his garden.

Over the last two months they had struggled to rebuild their friendship, not that they’d ever been very friendly. Pre-bonding they had been reaching an awkward stage of picking on each other in a fun way rather than a mean way. They’d had a few races, something Aster had cherished, as he’d felt so _alive_ when competing with the airborne spirit. Since the bonding they had been awkward and careful around each other, sharing pleasant words when Jack brought his hoodie to him. Jack was tired from summer so racing was out, but Aster was hopeful that it would pick up soon… if the damned summer would _ever_ end!

“Yeah, but I can’t get it to pull in the cold air from the north or south poles! Mother Nature isn’t bringing in the fall and I can’t make it happen! The leaves aren’t turning. The weather is _hot_. Don’t you feel it?”

“Yeah,” Aster nodded as he stood up and brushed dirt from his hands, “Listen. I’ve been thinking about that.”

“Yeah?” Jack asked, standing his staff up and perching on the top of it in a squat to stare a Bunny levelly.

“Thing is… North was worried this might happen. We’ve been thinking ya might be affected by what I did to you.”

“Like, I’m turning into a spring spirit because we’re ‘mated’?” Jack asked, “I could have fun with that. You think I’ll stop being cold all over?”

Jack looked… hopeful. Aster sighed as he realized he’d have to crush that.

“No, Jack. Like you’re losing your abilities due to how… well, think about it. Your centre is fun but I’ve destroyed your innocence,” Aster replied guiltily.

“I… no way. Me being a Guardian is rooted in me being a _virgin_? So wait… does that mean I’ll be replaced as a Guardian too?” Jack looked confused; “If I can’t even make snow anymore can I even be a _spirit_?”

“No, no,” Aster shook his head, “You just got to get your mojo back by putting some distance between us so you can heal and… wait… virgin?”

Aster gave Jack a horrified look, but Jack was looking aghast for a completely different reason.

“Wh-what?” Jack asked, eyes going wide.

Aster shook himself out of his horror, shelving that guilt for another day as he began to pace anxiously, “I’m grateful for what ye’ve done here. I really am. Thing is Appleseed’s on his way to doing well as a Guardian and ye’ve got no reason to end up in this state because of me. The hair ya left me will keep me alive, even if I won’t feel as… right… without you nearby. I think it’s best if we stayed away from each other completely.”

“What? No. Just… no,” Jack replied, looking completely crushed as he lit on the ground in front of him, “Why? What did I do wrong? I thought you said we could try to be friends again? Did I get too close? I haven’t pranked you in ages, do you miss that? Or should I…”

“You did _nothin’_ wrong, Jack,” Aster replied soothingly, placing a big hand on his slender shoulder and then pulling it away quickly, “I just don’t wanna hold ya back. Clearly seeing me is harming ya. It’s best if you go back to yer pond and get winter started properly.”

“Are you _stupid_?” Jack snapped, stomping his foot and freezing the spot beneath him briefly, “You think this is about _you?_ Haven’t you been listening? _Summer_ isn’t ending! Something is _wrong_ and it’s not got to do with me! It sure as hell doesn’t have to do with _you!_ ”

“Wait…”

“Don’t you think it’s more likely that _Pitch_ is responsible for this?!” Jack shouted, “That he made you sick? Got you replaced?”

“I… I… Jack, it’s just that…”

“No!” Jack snapped waving his hands angrily and bringing down a sudden bout of flurries that vanished quickly in the heat, “I’m sick of you pushing me away! I’ve apologized a thousand times for what I did to you! Or rather what I _didn’t_ do! I couldn’t push you off- I’m _fucking sorry_ \- but I don’t deserve this! If you don’t want to be my friend fine, but you give me a _real_ reason!”

“Because I can’t be ‘round ya without wanting to throw ya on the ground and _fuck_ yer pretty brains out!” Aster shouted, then clapped one hand over his mouth and bolted for his borough.

Jack stood frozen in shock for a moment and then chased after him, pushing aside his flowery door and bolting down into his chambers. Aster had hidden in his library where he was pulling books off the shelves and swearing angrily at the world.

“Aster?” Jack asked.

“Piss off ya larrikin!”

“No,” Jack replied, “I’m not going anywhere. This is what he _wants_. You out of the running as Guardian and someone else stepping up. Johnny Appleseed. The _Summer_ Guardian. And what do we have? An unending _summer_. Suspicious much?”

Aster looked up from what he was doing, “You think Appleseed is causing this? MiM _chose_ him.”

“He’s not very clear when he communicates,” Jack pointed out, “He just showed North a picture of Appleseed. Maybe he was trying to _warn_ us about him.”

“I hadn’t thought o’ tha,” Aster mused.

“Good,” Jack replied, “Now let’s get to Santoff Claussen and reinstate you as a Guardian before hunting down Johnny Appleseed and…”

“Hang on,” Aster replied, catching his hoodie, “We have no proof and besides that I just told you I want to… do things to you. You’re just going to ignore that?”

Jack hesitated, not meeting Aster’s eyes, “I can’t deal with that and summer not ending at the same time. It makes me feel awful. I think I’m going to end up sick the way you were if this doesn’t stop.”

Aster nodded, “Okay. One thing at a time. Let’s get to North. I’ll meet ya there.”

Jack nodded, backing away with a sad look on his face, his arms wrapped around himself tightly.

Aster stomped on the ground and vanished from sight, leaving an Aster flower blooming on the ground in his library. Jack picked it and breathed in his scent.

“Won’t even take me through your tunnels anymore, huh?” Jack sighed sadly.

He walked slowly back out into the hot weather of the Warren, sighing as he scooped up his crook from where he’d left it. He would fly through the permanent tunnels to Canada and then fly to the North Pole. It took longer that way because they were designed for the eggs to walk through them rather than Aster’s tunnels that allowed one to slide regardless of which direction they were going; just one of the many quirks of being a space-rabbit. Jack called Wind and took off up the familiar tunnel with a sad sigh.

XXX

“Appleseed?” North frowned, “He has shown no sign of being in league with Pitch.”

“Yeah, but Frostbite’s got a point,” Aster replied, “It’s damn hot out there for November.”

“True,” North replied, scratching at his beard, “Perhaps we… _question_ … Appleseed.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Aster replied, pulling out a boomerang and checking the sharpness with a smirk.

“Say…” North wondered, “Where _is_ Jack?”

“He was right behind me,” Aster replied, “Took the long way. Should be here by now.”

“You are still keeping him at distance?” North sighed, “Why? He shows no sign of wanting this.”

“It’s fer his own good,” Aster replied miserably, “I don’t trust maself.”

“Bunny,” Nicholas scolded, “He _cares_ about you.”

“You don know that,” Aster sighed.

“Cupid does,” North replied, “He said so at Mid-Summer party.”

“He… what?” Aster asked, looking up in surprise, “Why the pitch didn’t ya tell me?!”

“You seemed to be getting on,” North shrugged, “I figure I should be staying out of it, ja?”

“No!” Aster groaned, pulling at his ears, “I just told him I wanted to… bloody boogieman! This is a nightmare!”

“Maybe we should go look for him,” North worried, “He never flies this slowly.”

XXX

Jack couldn’t stop shaking. Everything was blurry and confusing, the world a mess of dripping stink. He was mildly aware of Aster and North talking above him before furred arms scooped him up and held him tightly. Then there was a relieving breeze moving through his hair, but his stomach heaved as the ground dropped out from beneath him. He was stupendously sick, moaning in humiliation as he realized he’d puked all over his love interest’s fur.

“Gonna dump my ass for sure,” Jack moaned.

“Not on yer life,” Aster replied softly, lowering Jack into blissfully cold water.

Jack pried his eyes open. He was in the North Pole sitting in a tub full of water with chunks of ice floating in it. He’d been cleaned up and Aster was scrubbing sick out of his fur in the nearby sink. North was the one holding his head up out of the water.

“You are turning pink,” North worried, “Jack, tell us what happened?”

“Just… fell out of the sky,” Jack muttered, “Wasn’t high up. Think I pulled something. It’s _so_ _hot_.”

“His shoulder,” Aster whispered, heading over, “He’s dislocated it. Probably can’t feel it with all that ice around him.”

“Yeah I can,” Jack grumbled.

“We will put back in place,” North replied, “Aster?”

“This is gonna hurt, Frostbite,” Aster warned, taking Jack’s arm while North went around to the other side of the clawfoot tub and held his body still.

Aster pulled, Jack screamed, and North swore under his breath at having to cause Jack harm. When his shoulder popped back into place a great deal of the pain subsided and Aster comforted him by petting his hair gently.

“All over now,” Aster soothed, “Ya gonna be alright. Just gotta bring this fever down.”

“How do we do that?” North asked in frustration, “I have no idea what to do for him. When you were ill I couldn’t manage to heal you without _Jack’s_ help, now Jack is ill! A fever for him is even worse than for you!”

“Let’s take him out in the snow,” Aster decided.

“Just one problem,” North sighed gesturing to the windows, “The snow… is _melting_.”

Aster looked up in horror. Sure enough the windows showed a line of dripping icicles.

“When did this start?!”

“About the time you showed up ill. It’s been very slow, but it continues. There are _flowers_ growing three miles off!”

“What kind of flowers?” Jack asked, glancing up at them blearily.

“White Asters?” Santa replied with a shrug, “They are not any flower I have seen. I assumed they were from Bunny.”

“Nah, mate,” Aster shook his head, “My Asters are blue, not white.”

“Not the one I picked,” Jack replied, pointing to his shirt on the floor.

North went to pick it up, but Aster stopped him and tugged the crushed blossom from his hoodie pocket. Aster stared at the white and pink blossom. It had five large petals, far less and far larger than an Aster bloom, and it smelled faintly of…

“Apples. This is an apple blossom.”

“Nyet,” North replied, shaking his head firmly, “They bloomed like ground flowers, not from a tree.”

“Some sort of… engineered one. I bet if you’d touched this you’d have become sick too. Eventually… long enough for us _not_ to realize what caused it! Jack said he’ been feeling sick for a bit. Jack, have you picked these before?”

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, “I have a bunch in my kitchen back at the Warren.”

“How long do they stay alive for?”

“Forever,” Jack shrugged weakly, “That’s why I love them. And they’re from you.”

“ _These_ ,” Aster waved the flower before deciding better and heading for the window to chuck it out into the snow, “These are _not_ from me. They’re a symptom. I’m still sick- or at least a carrier- and now you are too.”

“We need to find out what’s causing this!” North exclaimed, slapping the back of one hand into the palm of the other and furrowing his brow.

“We _need_ to get his fever down!” Aster argued.

“We need to get me a bucket,” Jack replied, and was sick over the side of the tub.

North called a yeti in to clean up the mess and they hauled Jack out of the tub and into the snow outside, not bothering with clothes. The snow was more slush than snow and Aster stared around him in concern.

“How did you not bring this up?”

“It was summer,” North shrugged, “I am not season spirit like you two, it means nothing to me. How did _you_ not notice it last few times you visit, eh?”

“I was a bit preoccupied!” Aster replied, gesturing to the lewd figure of a naked Jack finally returning to his natural nearly blue state.

“Feels nice,” Jack sighed, burrowing into the slushy snow.

“This shouldn’t be as erotic as it is,” Aster grumped, shifting uncomfortably as his prick slid a bit out of his shaft only to duck back in when it met freezing cold air.

“Pervert,” North grunted.

“S’nice,” Jack sighed, “Nice dream. Aster thinks I’m pretty.”

“Yeah I do,” Aster replied, stroking his damp hair, “North, call Tooth.”

“What about Appleseed?”

“Yeah, call him too. I’ve got a few _questions_ to ask him.”

Aster cracked his knuckles and glared at the flower under North’s bathroom window. There was a patch of bare ground around it in a small circle. Appleseed was going to _pay_ for what he’d done to Jack!

They set a yeti to guard Jack and headed inside to confront their new enemy. Neither heard Jack’s weak protests and Phil assumed he was delusional when he tried to call after them.

“Trick… it’s a trick… Pitch… trick…”

 


	11. Chapter 11

Aster stared in horror at the little light shining from the device they used to communicate with the Man in the Moon. Above it was shimmering a strange figure, almost skeletal in appearance and draped in an old suit that fit like a glove.

“Who’s tha’?” Aster asked, “He looks like a real creeper.”

“Sherlock Jackson Holmes, AKA Skellington,” North replied, “He’s close to breaking Jack’s Naughty record. His pranks are less fun and more… alarming.”

“And Manny wants us to recruit him?!” Aster shook his head, “I get what Jack was saying now. I don’t think Appleseed _was_ meant to replace me, and this bloke isn’t to replace Jack! They’re both warnings!”

“This man was with Pitch during the Mid-Summer party,” North informed, rubbing at his beard, “He was watching Appleseed _very_ closely.”

“Then they’ve joined up, most likely,” Aster nodded, “Pitch recruited them both and we’ve been duped!”

“I will send out signal to call them all him. When Appleseed appears we will restrain him and find out how to break this curse!”

Santa pulled the lever that set off the Aurora and they gathered rope to wait for Appleseed’s arrival.

Toothiana showed up first, much to their relief as they had to quickly explain what was going on to her. She suggested a net which she could drop from above. The window was open and Johnny Appleseed flowed in on a sunbeam before they were quite prepared.

“What’s with the ne…” He tried, but tooth and Aster pounced on him before he could even set foot on the floor, “Hey! What’s the big idea?!”

“We’ve got your number now, _mate_ ,” Aster growled, “What did you do to me? How do we heal Jack?”

“Jack’s hurt?” Appleseed asked.

“He’s sick!” North snapped.

“As if you didn’t know!” Aster snarled.

“I honestly don’t!” Appleseed snapped, struggling under the net, “Let me out of this! I’m warning you!”

“We’re all thousands of years old,” North chuckled, “As if _you_ could harm us? You’re younger than Ja-“

Appleseed’s figure rippled and North stepped back in alarm. Tooth was the closest so she was the first to respond to him, shouting in pain and reeling back as the net burst into flame. She frantically rolled about on the floor to put out the blaze on her feathers while Aster stomped on Appleseed and the burning netting. Appleseed rolled out from beneath him and rose to his feet, his leather-like flesh appeared to smoulder without actually being consumed, his clothing apparently immune to his combustion.

“I warned you,” Appleseed growled, “How do you think I keep the children warm during Jack’s winters? Why do you think I can walk on the _sunbeams_. I am _fire_. I am _wrath_ ,” John’s flames abruptly extinguished, “And I am _not_ your enemy.”

Aster stilled, his feet sore from the flames, and stared at Appleseed as he waited patiently for them to listen to logic.

“Okay,” Aster replied, “My Mate is hurt, possibly dying. If you didn’t cause this than who did?”

Aster held out the flower he’d collected from the snow. He’d placed it in a jar where it was giving off an eerie heat.

“That’s… odd,” John frowned, “I’ve never seen an apple blossom quite like that before.”

“It’s growing where I leave my tunnels,” Aster replied, “It’s causing guardians who touch it to fall ill and heating up the whole damn world!”

“That explains why I can’t sleep,” Appleseed frowned, “I should be tired by now. Fall should be coming.”

“Yeah, Skellington’s just popped up on our radar,” Aster replied, “So…”

“Who?”

“Skellington,” North replied, “You must know of him. He changes the leaves.”

“Never heard of him though… the name does sound familiar,” Appleseed frowned, “They just change as I start to get sleepy. Usually over night.”

“So he moves at night,” North nodded.

“Sounds like Pitch’s sort of bloke,” Aster nodded, waving to the hologram that showed an image of Skellington.

John went completely still.

“No,” He breathed, “No, it can’t be.”

“What?” Aster asked.

“Who?” North wondered.

“What a smile!” Tooth exclaimed.

“Holmes,” John whispered, then amended, “ _Sherlock_.”

“Yes, that’s his name. You know this spirit?” North asked.

“Knew him, yeah,” Johnny replied, “I knew him when we were alive. I was... we were good friends. Colleagues. He would _never_ do something evil; unethical, maybe, but not evil. He deplored those who prayed on the weak and infirmed. He was a man of _justice_.”

The way John spoke sent a shiver up Aster’s fur, sending his ears to twitching. _Oh you poor sod. You loved him._

“Well now he is spending time in the presence of Pitch the Nightmare King,” North reminded him, “And has been on the Naughty list for two hundred and fifty years running!”

Appleseed snorted as if he found that unimpressive and just a bit charming. _He’s got it bad._

“Look Appleblossom,” Aster growled.

“Apple _seed_ ,” He corrected.

“Chances are pretty high that your boyfriend poisoned me _and_ my friend, so let’s get out of Candy Land, yeah?”

“He wouldn’t do this.”

“There’s a reason MiM led us to you, and now him,” Tooth pointed out gently.

“Yeah, because we’re best friends. I know him like the back of my hand.”

“Even after two-hundred and sixty years apart?” Tooth winced a bit, “It’s just that lots of people change and…”

“Not him. He’s logical. Pathologically logical.”

“He’s a man with a skull face and the ability to only be seen by scared children,” Aster grunted, “What’s more logical than becoming a monstrous Halloween spectre?”

“You know in Latin America skulls aren’t considered-“ North started.

“Lessons later,” Aster grunted, “Plans now.”

“Where does he live?” John asked, “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Weren’t you listening?” Aster asked, “In Candy Land.”

“You have _got_ to be joking,” Appleseed groaned.

“I say we go after the source,” North declared, “If Pitch is somehow influencing Skellington than we will solve that problem. If they are in league than we will handle him after we take out Pitch,” North slapped Appleseed on the back hard enough to make him stagger forward, “Revenge will be yours!”

“So where is Pitch’s lair?” Appleseed wheezed.

“Under your bed,” Aster, Tooth, and North all replied.

“Oookay,” Appleseed replied, “This is the part where I wake up screaming, right?”

“Nah,” Aster shook his head, “He’s under everyone’s bed. Just like we all have a way to travel so does the Nightmare King. He is summoned to the bedroom of those who are having a nightmare; his exit is through the shadows under their bed. If you break through your bed while channelling magic- or while he’s inviting you- you’ll drop into his world. Jack did it once...*”

“So it’s agreed?” Tooth asked, “We go after Pitch?”

Sandman took that moment to show up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“You’re late,” North grunted.

“We were getting worried,” Tooth fluttered up to him.

“No we weren’t,” Aster lied.

“You okay?” Appleseed asked.

Sandman nodded, holding up his thumb and then flickered pictures over his head of Pitch and his Night Mares.

“Oh!” Tooth gasped, “You encountered Pitch!”

Sandy shook his head in frustration and tried again.

“You… gave Pitch good dreams?” Aster tried.

“You had a nightmare about the Nightmare King?” North tried.

“Pitch is having nightmares?” Appleseed tried.

Sandy pointed at Johnny and tapped his nose eagerly.

“ _Pitch_ is having nightmares?” North repeated in surprised confusion.

Sandy tried a few flickering pictures again, one of them of Aster.

“I haven’t seen him lately,” Aster shrugged, “Or had nightmares.”

Sandy rubbed between his eyes in frustration, his shoulders moving as he mimed a heavy sigh. Then he simply motioned for them to follow and brought up an image of North’s sleigh.

“Fantastic idea!” North crowed.

“Oh, no,” Aster moaned, “Not the sleigh! Can’t we go by my tunnels?”

“We don’t know if your tunnels are safe,” North reminded just as everyone was leaning towards that option.

Aster grudgingly admitted that was accurate but at the last minute he froze on the way to the sleigh.

“North,” Aster tugged at his sleeve.

“Hm?”

“I can’t leave him.”

“Aster, you have duty to…”

“I’m not a Guardian anymore, remember?”

“Technicality! Here, we have vote,” North whistled for the others, “All in favour of reinstating Bunny as…”

“North!” Aster pulled on his beard to get his attention.

“Oi! What?!”

“I don’t _want_ to go. I _need_ to stay here. With Jack.”

Understanding lit his eyes, then a tender look flickered through them, “Go, my friend.”

Aster nodded, gave them all a worried look, and hurried away.

XXX

“Hey Jackie,” Aster sighed, settling down in the snow on a crate with a mug of hot cider. He was dressed from head to toe in rather ridiculous clothes, but the odd green uniform was all that would fit him in North’s workshop. He’d wrapped his feet up to hold off the cold, “I guess I’ll have to get used to the cold, eh? Wanting to be with you fer real and all.”

Jack groaned and rolled over in the slush, ice and water dripping down his pale-blue body. Aster swallowed hard. Jack’s penis was average sized while flaccid, but what about when aroused? Aster still couldn’t recall their mating, though it had plagued his dreams and waking fantasies for months now. How had it felt to touch him? Bury himself inside of Jack? Or had Jack been the one to lift his tail and…

Aster groaned and tugged at his ears anxiously, “Ya jest gotta wake up, Snowflake. I need you. Not just ta sleep and eat. I _really_ need you. What could be a more perfect combination than Fun and Hope?”

Jack’s eyes slowly opened, “Curiosity and Welfare.”

“What?” Aster asked, but Jack’s eyes had slipped closed again, “That doesn’t even make sense. How would those two fit together? Curiosity would go well with Wonder but… Ah, who am I arguing with? Meself, that’s who.”

Aster sipped his hot cider and watched Jack sleep in the slush until his cheeks lost that unusual pink hue. They shifted to purple, then cerulean, then his usual pale-blue. His icy lover opened his eyes.

“Aster?” Jack asked in confusion, “What’d you do with my hoodie?”

“Ah,” Aster swallowed, “First off, I’d jest like to say that it’s not what it looks like. Second, it’s with yer trousers.”

“My…” Jack glanced downward, “HOLY MiM I’M NAKED!”

XXX

It was well into darkness when the sleigh landed. Jack had dressed and had a milkshake courtesy of the yetis. He was tired and weak but well on his way to recovery. Aster watched for any change in his magic as carefully as he could, but Jack seemed too week to perform any at the moment. He was also missing a substantial amount of his memory, apparently he didn’t recall their entire conversation before he collapsed. He was surprised that Appleseed had (was?) suspect, but unsurprised that Pitch seemed to be the nuisance behind the long summer.

They headed out to the tarmac together, hurrying in concern when North hopped out and shouted for the yetis to bring a stretcher. The yetis shoved them aside in their hurry to comply. Aster and Jack stilled in confusion as North lifted Pitch effortlessly and deposited into the stretcher.

“He’s burning up! Jack? Tell me your powers work!” North shouted, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him forward.

“What? I can barely keep _myself_ cold. I’m not wasting any effort on _Pitch_.”

“He knows something,” Appleseed stated, laying a hand on Jack’s arm, “Please. He was trying to tell us something before he lost consciousness. It sounded like a warning. He looked _terrified_.”

“He’s good at that,” Jack snapped, pulling away from Appleseed, “He’s a great actor. Don’t be taken in by him!”

“He is not faking this,” North replied, pulling Jack forward and laying his hand on Pitch’s forehead.

“Woah,” Jack pulled his hand back as if it had been burnt. Well it might have been, “Look, I’m not joking. I can’t help you _directly_ , but… I can guide you in cooling him down.”

“Good!” North boomed before turning to his yetis, “Take him to bedroom!”

“Thank you,” Appleseed said to Jack softly, “I was a doctor once. Just tell me what to do and I should be able to help a great deal. I just need help getting his fever down and you’re the ice king so…”

“Good,” Jack nodded, “We’ll manage it together then.”


	12. Chapter 12

Jack was still weak and tired; having to sit down the second he got to the room as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. Aster was at his side instantly, one massive paw rubbing his shoulder. Jack turned to press his face into Aster’s soft fur to seek comfort and steady the shifting room. Aster’s other hand came up to gently stroke the back of his head and Jack shivered at the tickle on the small hairs at the nape of his head. His hair was mostly grown in now, but wilder for the shorter length.

“You okay, Jackie?” Aster asked softly, “Is… is this okay?”

Jack snickered, “I’m not _fragile_ , Bunny. Just not feeling so hot. Or rather, feeling _too_ hot. My fever is broken, but my body is still telling me it’s supposed to be _colder_ out.”

“What can I do?” Aster asked.

“Just make sure I don’t fall down and make a fool out of myself,” Jack smirked, and then set about directing Johnny on the best ways to cool Pitch down. Aster hovered over Jack anxiously while trying to stay out of the way.

They had Pitch soaking in a cool bath, which was more likely to work for him than it had for Aster or Jack based on their physical differences. His temperature was soon coming back down, but he’d been worse off for quite a while so it was going to take time.

“Twenty minute baths,” Jack advised after testing Pitch’s forehead, “Then take him out and dry him off. Leave him under a light covering for twenty minutes. Repeat. Got it?”

Johnny nodded, but he looked distracted.

“Something wrong?” Jack asked, wondering if there were another symptom he couldn’t see without a medical background.

“Sorry,” Johnny smiled sadly, “Just thinking how lucky you are.”

“Lucky how?” Jack asked, though he could think of a few ways.

“You and Aster,” Johnny replied with a soft smile, “When I was alive I had a shot with someone… I put it off out of fear of people judging us until it was too late. He died and the only person I had left couldn’t feel the same way towards me. We were close but… Sorry, you don’t want to hear me whine about my pathetic ex-life.”

Jack shrugged, “It’s cool, man. I get it. We can chat sometime when this whole mess is over.”

Jack was serious about the talk… and about having it in private. Aster was hovering a few feet away giving them both a humiliated glare. Jack let the Pooka guide him out of the sick room, but the second the door shut behind them he scooped Jack up into his arms to carry him. Jack sighed in relief and Aster looked surprised at the lack of argument.

“I feel like whipped cream.”

“That doesn’t sound appealing,” Aster chuckled a bit, heading down the hall to the room that had been claimed as Jack’s for the time being, “You need another sit-down in the snow? What’s left of it?”

“No,” Jack shook his head miserably, “I just need to be away from all of this.”

“I’ll tuck you in,” Aster stated softly, “Just to make sure you’re okay. Not to be weird.”

“It’s not weird, you know,” Jack replied as Aster lowered him into the bed, “Leave the covers off. Too hot. It’s really not weird.”

“What’s not weird?” Aster asked, fussing with a pitcher of water to pour Jack something to drink and leave it by his bedside.

“You helping me. Taking care of me. I get it, your instincts are saying I’m your mate. You don’t have to feel weird about it.”

“Yeah,” Aster muttered, “Instincts.”

“What will help?” Jack asked, “Is it easier for you to be near me? Or away?”

“Near,” Aster confessed after a while, “But I don’t want you to feel…”

“Feel what?” Jack asked, unable to keep the panic from creeping up in his voice. Did Aster know how much he wanted the pooka?

“I don’t want to force my company on you,” Aster replied, then winced, “Sorry. Bad phrasing.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Jack replied miserably, “Can’t I be selfish for a bit? I’m _sick_.”

Aster smiled at Jack’s soft whine, “We were talking about a few things before you passed out. You mentioned earlier that you don’t remember our conversation. I think I better fill you in before we hang out.”

Jack groaned, “What did I say and how disgusted are you?”

“It’s what _I_ said, actually. Look, Jack, we both know what happened between us and tiptoeing around it isn’t going to help. The thing is, I’m still attracted to you and that’s-“

“R-really?” Jack asked, staring up at him with hope in his eyes, “You’ll give me another chance?”

“I… give _you_ a chance? I was going to ask _you_ to give _me_ a chance.”

“A chance at what?” Jack asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“I chance to… to try being _more_ than friends,” Aster asked, “But wait, this doesn’t make sense. Why would you need _me_ to give _you_ a chance?”

“Why would you need _me_ to give _you_ a chance?” Jack vollied back.

“No. Stop,” Aster shook his head, “This is getting nowhere. No more pussyfooting around. Jack, I never meant to rape you. It was…”

“ _Rape me_?” Jack stammered, “How long was I out for?!”

“What? No! I mean back when _I_ was sick!”

“You didn’t rape me,” Jack stammered, “I took advantage of _you_.”

Aster blinked, “Jack, I’m a seven foot rabbit with magical abilities. I’d like to see you _try_ to take advantage of me.”

“You know that’s not how it works,” Jack flushed, looking away, “You were so helpless and I just… I just _used you_ to get off.”

“You don’t say?” Aster asked, voice going husky, “I’ve been wondering how it played out.”

“This isn’t sexy, it’s awful!” Jack snapped, “I wish I could sink into the damn ground and vanish!”

“What? Why?” Aster asked.

“Because of what I _did_ to you! Or _didn’t_ do,” Jack groaned, rubbing at his face, “I just wasn’t strong enough to push you away. _Please_ understand, it’s just that you felt so _good_. I’ve never… Damn it. I’m not trying to make excuses.”

“Jack,” Aster tried, “Let’s be clear about this. When you say you ‘couldn’t’ push me away… do you mean physically couldn’t? As in not strong enough?”

“No,” Jack replied anxiously, fiddling with the blankets to give his hands something to do, “I mean… I could have stopped you but… I didn’t.”

“Why?” Aster asked softly, reaching out and catching his hands to stop them pulling the threads out of the afghan.

“Because I wanted you to keep touching me,” Jack replied softly, eyes clenched shut and face flushed with shame.

“I can promise you that whatever state I was in, I wanted it too,” Aster said softly, “I don’t remember it, but what you ran across wasn’t your fault, Jack.”

“You don’t…”

“North didn’t tell you why I get sick every spring, did he?”

“ _Every_ spring?” Jack wondered, glancing up to meet his eyes finally.

“Yeah,” Aster nodded, “That’s why he didn’t think it was odd at first. Not until I didn’t recover. Jack, I’m a space _rabbit_. We pooka go into rut every spring. I come here so he can… _help_ me through it.”

“Sexually?!” Jack squeeked.

“In a way,” Aster sighed, “He doesn’t _have_ sex with me. He just puts me in a nice cool room with food and water and gives me a pillow to hump. If I get worse off he comes in and cuddles me routinely. I need the comfort. It’s humiliating but I trust him. He probably sent you in for one of my cuddles, figuring that I was all frotted out and you could break my fever.”

“Except it took so long and when your temperature stabilized you got hot and bothered again.”

“And decided you were a pillow,” Aster nodded, “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Jack replied, then shut his eyes and shivered, “Pretty much the opposite.”

“All this time I’ve been feeling like this perverted monster,” Aster sighed, “And you _liked_ it.”

“I’ve been thinking I was some delinquent for taking advantage of you,” Jack replied, “And I’m _still_ not convinced that I’m not. You were out of your skull with hormones…”

“And you gave me what I wanted. My kind use that time of year to build lasting connections, Jack. It’s _normal_ for me what we did. I was devastated because it isn’t normal for _your_ kind.”

“I’m a spirit. I haven’t got a kind anymore.”

“Want to be mine?” Aster purred, reaching out slowly to stroke his cheek.

“Fuck yeah,” Jack grinned.

Aster climbed onto the bed, his body rumbling in anticipated pleasure. Jack shivered in longing, sinking down in the bed as his limbs went limp with longing. He was still weakened and Aster was well aware of it. He pressed Jack down into the bed with one strong hand and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Relax. Let me take care of you,” Aster soothed.

“I…”

“Relax,” Aster insisted, nuzzling his neck and then kissing his way to Jack’s lips.

Cold. The inside of his mouth was chilly as if he’d just eaten icecream. Aster shivered but it wasn’t from the cool, it was from his throbbing need making itself known as his cock slid out of it’s sheath. He worried for a moment over Jack’s reaction to such a strange phallus, but then he recalled that Jack had already at the very least _seen_ it. So he let himself relax into kissing and touching his mate.

Jack lay still on his back, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, sickness, and the slow ebb and flow of desire. Aster slowly undressed him, peppering his body with kisses that tickled just enough to bring a smile to his face. Aster’s whiskers twitched a bit as he breathed in the spicy scent of lust on Jack’s body. He finally had his lover undressed so he stretched out beside him and reached down to stroke his heavy cock. Jack was a good seven inches or more now that he was erect, and his illness hadn’t stopped him from hardening at the mere thought of being touched. Aster rested his head on one hand and stared down at Jack as he slowly and lazily stroked him from bollocks to the tip of his cockhead. He was glad to find that Jack was uncircumcised, much preferring the natural look, and his small brush of white hair added lovely texture to his bollocks.

Aster kept it light and teasing at first and Jack nearly drifted to sleep in the comfort of his caresses. Then he began to tighten his hand around the shaft and give it just the slightest twist towards the top before smoothing back down, relaxing his hands at the base, and smoothing them down to cup his bollocks, before sliding back up and wrapping his fingers around that straining shaft once again. He kept this up, still moving slowly, while Jack began to sigh and make soft sounds of pleasure. His lips were only slightly parted but he wasn’t holding back so Aster saw no need to intervene. For a good ten minutes he simply enjoyed the sight of Jack laid out for him, cock hard and twitching while his bollocks drew up even as his body lay limp in front of Aster.

“Beautiful,” Aster breathed.

“Aster,” Jack whimpered, “Please.”

Aster sped up, but kept the same motions even as his bollocks drew up tight to his body. He wondered if Jack could come from this alone. He was inexperienced so it was a possibility, but judging by the way his breathe had begun to huff and his toes curl it was time for Aster to give him some relief before he began to stress him out. He shifted down to straddle one slim thigh and leaned down. He carefully kept the motions going with his hand despite the altered angle. Jack opened his eyes, staring at him with blown pupils and trembling lips. Aster smiled softly and then dropped his head to let his mouth chase his hand. His lips wrapped around Jack’s cockhead and began to suckle lightly, his tongue moving in lazy circles around the swollen tip to slide beneath the foreskin. Jack let out a shocked groan, his hips stuttering weakly before he lay still and simply panted beneath Aster’s touch. He bobbed his head a bit, taking in more of the shaft but still focusing on the head as his hand continued to pleasure the length and his now clenched bollocks.

Jack moved finally, his hand resting on top of Aster’s head to one side of his ears. When Aster sped up a bit Jack’s hands wrapped around one hear and gently fondled it with nervous fingers.

“Aster,” Jack gasped, “So… good…”

“Mmm,” Aster agreed.

Jack was panting now, Aster’s hand flying over him in smooth motions as he encouraged his mate to find his release. Jack let out a soft moan and then began a steady chain of soft cries and whimpers. He was close and Aster could feel his cockhead swelling. He let his hand fall down to stroke his bollocks in soft circles only, pressing them firmly where they were already tight to his body. He took more of Jack’s shaft into his mouth, bouncing on the bed with his knees and one hand so that his mouth moved over his cock with the same motions that he would if he were literally riding him. Jack let out a series of shocked and excited cries and his cock pulsed into Aster’s mouth for what felt like ages. Aster moaned and swallowed his wet gift down, savouring the salty slick on his tongue for a moment.

Jack was limp with pleasure, taking big heaving breaths as he gazed up at Aster with admiration on his face.

“I had no idea it could be slow like that. I thought it was always fast and sort of… rough.”

“You like it rough? I can do that too… when you’re better.”

“I liked that too,” Jack replied, eyes feeling heavy, “Can I touch you?”

“Dunno,” Aster teased, “Can you? You look beat, mate.”

“I wanna,” Jack murmured.

“I got an idea,” Aster replied, “A way you can _really_ rock my world, but you don’t have to do much of anything.”

“I like the sound of that,” Jack yawned, “How do we do it?”

“Let me get something,” Aster replied, standing up and crossing to the small water closet with his cock bobbing proudly in front of him. He snatched up some lotion from a shelf and returned, “Lay on your side. Get comfy.”

Jack rolled over lazily and Aster settled down behind him, spooning his slender figure with a soft moan.

“So beautiful,” Aster growled, stroking his hands over Jack’s belly and chest. Jack shivered and his cock gave an interested twitch, but Aster wasn’t about to set him off again. Not so soon after him being deathly ill.

Aster slicked up Jack’s thighs and slipped his naturally damp member between them. He pressed down on one knee and moaned as his hips began to roll eagerly between his cool flesh. It felt odd to press his shaft between two cold things, but his body recognized Jack as his mate and his skin might have been cold but it was definitely alive and sexy as hell. He had only a spare smattering of hair on his thighs but Aster ran his claws through it eagerly. Jack arched his back, grinding his plush little arse into Aster’s abdomen and drawing a hungry groan from the pooka. Aster stared down at him as Jack tilted his head up and met Aster’s gaze. The pooka bent double so he could catch Jack’s lips in an upside-down kiss. It felt odd, but his tongue slipped inside and they eagerly duelled for a moment as Aster began to thrust eagerly between muscled flesh. He was soon too overwhelmed and broke their kiss to throw his head back and pant. He had an arm around Jack’s waist and one pressing on his thigh as he took him with hard, needy thrusts.

“Jaaaack,” Aster groaned, his cock throbbing hard. Jack’s hand wandered down and hesitantly formed a cup that Aster’s cockhead slammed into with each forward thrust. It was all he needed and Aster let out a sharp cry as he came hard while Jack gently stroked the tip of his cock where it strained between his thighs.

He came floating down from his blissful encounter only to pry his eyes open and moan in shocked arousal as he caught Jack curiously sampling his spunk.

“I… I liked the way I tasted on your tongue so…” Jack stammered.

“Fucking hot as hell, Frostbite,” Aster panted, “You better get healthy fast.”

“Mmm,” Jack sighed, eyes heavy with want of sleep.

Aster sighed and dragged himself out of bed to clean Jack up. He was practically asleep by the time Aster slipped back into bed. He pulled his mate into his arms, tucked the covers around himself only, and let himself drop off to sleep. It had been an exhausting few days and a downright dreadful summer.


	13. Chapter 13

Jack was looking much improved the next day but Pitch still hadn’t regained consciousness. Johnny was pacing Pitch’s room, his mood gone dark and angry. Whenever someone spoke to him his response was to growl the same words: _Holmes can’t have done this_.

“Our powers were affected,” Jack pointed out, “Maybe yours were as well? It’s possible you’re a sick and don’t know it or something.”

“Holmes _can’t_ have-“

“Yeah, I get it. He’s as innocent as the new fallen snow,” Jack snapped, “Just… do something summery for me.”

Johnny turned and gave Jack a sneer before holding out his hand. In it he held an apple. He tossed it into the air and it burst into bloom, a stick with a leaf emerging before the apple even hit the floor. Once there it shook, bounced, and jumped until it exploded into a sapling, the roots gripping the bedpost. Before Jack could utter a sentence the sapling grew into a curved apple tree growing out of the side of the bed. Over Pitch’s form apple blossoms burst into flower, lost their petals, and became plump red apples.

“Cool!” Jack clapped, grinning from ear to ear. He reached out to pluck an apple but Aster appeared out of nowhere to slap his hand away.

“We don’t know if they’re _safe_.”

“Right,” Jack nodded, “Let’s test them on a yeti!”

“What?!” Aster shouted as Jack snatched one up and shot out into the hall.

“Hey Phil!!” Jack called, “Wanna take one for the team?!”

Aster thumped after him but by the time he got there Phil was happily licking off his fingers.

“Jack!” Aster shouted, “You can’t just poison yetis!”

Phil gave him a horrified look while Jack grinned at him, “He’s fine! See?”

“You and your damn shenanigans,” Aster grumbled, grabbing Jack by the ear and dragging him away.

“Hey! Ow!”

XXX

North sighed as he leaned over Pitch’s bed, “He used to be good, apparently. Long before any of us were Guardians. He fell from grace, not because of an act of evil but due to an act of mercy.”

“You’re trying to make me consider the idea that Holmes would do this for a good reason. Not happening,” Johnny snarled.

“You love him.”

“We had no chance while we were alive. Our time was more closed minded than this one,” Johnny sighed, “He was my whole damn _world_ but I couldn’t tell him.”

“So tell him now,” North replied, “Perhaps you can reason with him and break whatever madness has taken him.”

“He isn’t a part of this!” Johnny raged.

North nodded, “Then there’s no harm in you visiting him.”

“You really…” Johnny hesitated, “You won’t stop me?”

“It’s not my place,” North replied.

There was a moment of stillness and then Johnny bolted to the window, threw it open, and extended his hand palm up to call down a sunbeam.

“How will you find him?” North asked, “Candy land is inaccessible.”

“Not to me,” Johnny replied, “He’d never keep me out.”

Johnny stepped onto the golden, shimmering beam of light and began to run, his feet soaring through the sky on the dancing motes that the sun’s heat woke up for him. He ran higher than he ever had before, struggling to breathe when the air became thin. He pushed through the clouds and stood there, panting miserably. Sherlock was _here._ Somewhere. His heart was calling for him and he just _knew_ he could reach him. Candyland had supposedly been seen somewhere in the clouds, but _where_ Johnny had no idea. He searched anxiously for what felt like days but was probably closer to hours. He was worn down and shaking with exhaustion by the time the clouds changed. They were soft and springy rather than the London-thick fog that he knew them to be. He could step off of his sunbeams and stand on them.

Johnny took stock of his position and then stepped towards a set of high pillars. He pressed on one and his hand left an imprint. He leaned forward curiously and gave it a sniff. _Marshmallow_. Leave it to his sugar-loving Sherlock to live in a land of marshmallows.

A rainbow coloured path stretched out before him and John walked along it feeling very out of place. This seemed to sweet and sticky for Sherlock, but then he’d always had a tender side to him that no one was ever allowed to see. He kept it tightly locked away and even John had only spied it on occasion.

A forest appeared before him and John was surprised to see it was made of _candy canes._ He walked a few paces in before being stopped by a guard. Except the guard was _himself_. John blinked in surprise. There he was as he’d appeared as a human before his death. He looked cool and collected in a green winter jacket with his hands shoved in the pockets. He didn’t seem to recognize Johnny.

“Welcome to the Peppermint Forest,” Fake John spoke, his voice echoing oddly, “Answer my riddle and you may pass. Fail my test and you will fall.”

“Go on, then,” Johnny nodded.

“What walks on the first day, runs on the second, staggers on the third, and stands on the fourth.”

Johnny thought for a moment, recalled a moment from his life with Sherlock, and then gave his answer.

“Justify your response,” Fake John demanded.

John did so and Fake John stepped aside with a proud nod, “You may pass. Follow the path, but a warning I must give: Don’t trust those who look sweet. Smiles can be lies and sugar rot the teeth.”

XXX

 _If you know the answer post it in the comments or on the Sherlock Ships Ahoy page under the link. Virtual cookies for those who get it right ;) If you get_ all _six riddles right you get to promote the prompt/WIP of your choice. First come first serve._

XXX

North stared down at Johnny Appleseed and frowned, “So you _have_ betrayed us! I thought better of you Appleseed!”

“I don’t think that’s him,” Jack frowned, rubbing at his chin, “We followed him here, remember? He wandered for hours before finding this place. Now he’s changed his clothes and is asking us riddles?”

“Is that your answer?” John asked.

“Repeat the question, please?” Tooth asked, fluttering up a bit.

“What walks on the first day, runs on the second-“ John began, but North cut him off by drawing his swords.

“You do!” He snarled.

“Is that your answer?” John asked.

“Ja!” North snarled, stepping forward angrily.

“Wrong,” John stated.

The marshmallow ground opened up beneath him and North plummeted with a howl of shock. It closed up before Tooth could dart after him.

“Oh no!” Toothiana screamed.

“Is that your answer?” John asked, face still blank.

“No!” Jack and Aster shouted in horror.

“North!” Toothiana whimpered.

“I’ll get him!” Jack shouted, and took off on his crook.

“Yer not strong enough!” Aster shouted, waving his arms at him.

Sandy gave Aster a proud salute and shot off after Jack on his sand clouds. Tooth grabbed Aster’s arm before he could take off after them.

“We need to solve this riddle,” Tooth insisted, “You’re older than we are. What do you think the answer is?”

“At the moment I’m agreeing with North,” Aster snarled.

“Aster! Focus!” Tooth shouted.

“Fine!”

XXX

John frowned at the sight before him. It had been centuries since he’d last seen Mrs. Hudson, but she seemed completely unchanged. There she stood, holding a tray full of confections and smiling at him in her sweet way.

“Welcome to Nana’s Nutt House!” She crowed.

“Mrs. Hudson?” John tried.

“No, dear. I’m Nana! Now, then. What was I supposed to say? Oh yes!” She chirped, “On my plate two choices lie, one is truth and one is rye. Chose the one which safely passes, or all your friends will mourn their losses!”

John studied her tray. Her riddle made no sense. On the tray were two biscuits, a slice of rye bread, butter, jam, and some tea. One biscuit looked like chocolate chip, which was John’s favourite. The other looked like ginger snap. Did she mean rye or wry? John sighed and sat down on a rock in frustration. A glance beneath him in surprise showed it was actually a muffin he was sitting on. A slow grin passed over John’s lips and he stood up.

“Two choices?” John asked.

“Correct,” Mrs. Hudson/Nana replied.

“Then I think I’ve made my decision. My response is…”

 _If you know the answer post it in the comments or on the Sherlock Ships Ahoy page under the link. Virtual cookies for those who get it right ;) If you get_ all _six riddles right you get to promote the prompt/WIP of your choice. First come first serve._

XXX

North glared at the sweet looking old lady in misery. He was scorched in several places from the battle that had resulted in _none_ of them being able to answer the riddle posed by ‘John’. Now this little old lady was offering them tea?!

“Well, it’s obviously not the bread,” Tooth muttered.

“The cookies are plural,” Jack decided, “It’s gotta be the tea.”

“I agree,” Tooth nodded, “Even if tea _does_ stain your teeth.”

“Who drinks it?” Aster asked.

“Fine,” North sighed, “Cowards.”

“I ain’t a coward,” Aster snapped, “I’m just not willing to risk my life on some bloody tea.”

North smirked at him, “Then you drink. Or do you also wish to do battle with a smiling old lady?”

Aster squinted at her, “Nah. I don’t trust her. There’s just something about how sticky sweet she is…”

“So we fight again?” Tooth groaned, “This is ridiculous! We’ve been alive for thousands of years between us all. We should be able to figure out some stupid riddles!”

XXX

John’s hackles were raised. Moriarty! He was standing before him with that manic smile on his face and a long cape flowing from his shoulders. Around them was a dripping, sticky, putrid smelling swamp. Moriarty stood in the midst of it as if it flowed _from_ him, as well it might since the cape seemed to melt into the slime he stood in.

“Welcome to the Liquorice Lagoon. Step carefully.”

“Step carefully?” John asked, “That’s it?”

Moriarty nodded. John glanced down at the ground. The path continued around the licourice slime. It seemed clearly made of different coloured candies situated to look like flagstones. If he stayed on it he’d be safe. John strode forward confidently but his foot suddenly stuck firmly in one spot. He stared down at the purple square and groaned as he realized a barely visible X was marked on it. He looked over at Moriarty and fond him grinning at him wickedly.

“Alright,” John sighed, “What now?”

Moriarty’s arm moved in a dramatic arc and a pedestal rose from the muck, slime oozing off of it. When it finally stopped oozing the pedestal looked like a sundial, but instead of numbers around it there were various shapes and pictures.

“Spin red and be free. We each take a turn, but if another player approaches the game will take longer. Each time I spin I will move closer by that colour. If I reach you before you spin red you will remain in this swamp with me forever.”

Johnny took a deep breath and spun the dial. It turned and turned and then stopped on a picture of a sun.

“Yellow,” Moriarty smiled, “My turn.”

Moriarty spun the dial by simply pointing at it. It landed on an apple. He stepped from the mire onto the nearest red square.

“My turn,” John breathed, and spun again, “A pumpkin. How appropriate. I’m guessing that’s orange?”

Moriarty’s answer was to point his thin finger at the dial again. It spun and stopped on a bunch of grapes. He grinned wickedly and put his arms up.

“No!” Johnny shouted, “No stay back!”

Johnny brought up his flames, but Moriarty glided to him as if on wheels, his arms out and a wicked leer on his face. His arms came around John, smothering his flames in a vicious outpouring of life-smothering goo. John choked as the taste of licourice invaded his mouth, shutting his eyes against the sticky substance as it clung to his eyelashes. He was being tugged towards the lagoon where he would surely die and rot beneath the putrid substance. Then something changed. Cold invaded his world and everything became still and silent. He couldn’t move, not even to shake. His breath was still stolen from him and his world was becoming dark and fuzzy. Then a great pounding sound reached his ears. Warm hands brushed the goop from his face as if it were merely sand and he blinked his eyes open to stare up at North.

“His mouth and nose, Jack!”

“I can’t unfreeze it!” Jack stammered, “Johnny, bring up your flames again!”

North stepped back and Johnny brought up his flames, choking and spitting out the foul substance. He blew his nose on a handkerchief Tooth held out for him.

“Thanks,” He groaned, staring down at the mess that was the remains of Moriarty. He was shattered on the ground in thousands of frozen pieces. Part of his face stared blankly up at the sky.

“No problem,” Jack replied, “We were kinda following you.”

“I assumed you would,” Johnny replied with a shrug, “I want to talk to him first.”

They all nodded soberly.

“We should go, yeah?” Aster pointed out.

“I can’t,” John sighed, “My foot is still stuck. I have to spin red to get there.”

“So push it to red,” Jack laughed.

“I _really_ don’t think that’s a good idea,” Aster pointed out, “And if you’ll remember, my last hunch was right.”

“No, actually,” Johnny grinned, “Holmes would approve. He didn’t mind cheating so long as the reason was good.”

“Would he acknowledge that our reason is good?” Tooth wondered.

“One way to find out,” John shrugged. He reached out and turned the dial to the apple. The ground opened up beneath him and he was sucked down with a shout of alarm. North made a grab for his hand but he missed him.

“Oh gods,” Jack breathed, “We can’t leave to get him like we could North. We’re too far away!”

“Now what?” Aster asked.

“We keep going,” North replied, “And when we find this ‘Holmes’ we try to reason with him. If that fails we stop him.”

“Do we need to spin?” Tooth asked with a shudder.

“I think we just need to hop over that X,” Jack replied, frowning at the purple square that had re-emerged from the depths of the liquorice ground.

“Let’s go,” Aster nodded, making the first jump. He cleared it easily and the rest moved over to continue on their way unmolested.

_Riddle for the readers: What else is on the candy land spinner besides colours? Be kind and don’t google it ;)_

_If you know the answer post it in the comments or on the Sherlock Ships Ahoy page under the link. Virtual cookies for those who get it right ;) If you get_ all _six riddles right you get to promote the prompt/WIP of your choice. First come first serve._

XXX

They walked for what seemed like ages, coming across yet another X- this one on a red square- and managing to avoid it. They stopped at the sight of a disgustingly sweet looking manour made of… lollypops. Many coloured lollypops. It was revolting. Three young kids wearing Halloween masks came out, giggling and jostling each other. The girl- wearing a witch mask- stepped forward and cleared her throat.

“What wears a cloak for part of a day and sunscreen for the other part?”

Aster chuckled, “That’s an easy one…”

 _If you know the answer post it in the comments or on the Sherlock Ships Ahoy page under the link. Virtual cookies for those who get it right ;) If you get_ all _six riddles right you get to promote the prompt/WIP of your choice. First come first serve._

Finally they came to the figure of a beautiful woman draped in a long, flowing, white fur coat. She didn’t appear to be wearing anything underneath of it judging by the way it showed a glimpse of pale thigh and the soft curve of cleavage.

“Welcome to the Ice Cream Palace,” She indicated a small castle behind her with cones full of chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, and swirled ice cream for turrets. The door appeared to be a popsicle, “Answer my riddle and pass safely. What has power, but no strength; many arms, but no hands; stretches across lands, but remains in a seat?”

Silence reigned and the group sighed in frustration.

“Anyone?” North asked hopefully, “Sandy?”

Sandman shrugged, then flashed a few images and shrugged again. After about an hour of musing they all sat down to think it through. It no longer felt like a rush what with Johnny being behind them rather than ahead. Hopefully he’d survived the fall, grabbed a sunbeam, and started over again.

“Maybe he’ll catch up in time to answer this one,” Jack chuckled, “Seeing as how he seemed to be getting them right up until his luck ran out.”

 _If you know the answer post it in the comments or on the Sherlock Ships Ahoy page under the link. Virtual cookies for those who get it right ;) If you get_ all _six riddles right you get to promote the prompt/WIP of your choice. First come first serve._

XXX

John hadn’t fallen to his death… or his sunbeam saving grace. He’d re-emerged at a red X and found he could step off of it easily. From there it was just two more riddles until he reached Sherlock’s Mind Palace.

It was undoubtedly that. It was a mixture of macabre, bits of candy, skulls, and a few weapons and bits of armour. John could see a library through a window made of sugar pane and wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire inside were filled with books. In front of him stood Sherlock Holmes as he’d been before he’d died, but he was wearing the crown jewels and smirking at John without recognition in his eyes. He was undoubtedly another riddle-doll. It was breaking John’s heart.

“Go on, then,” John sighed, “What’s the riddle?”

“Where are you? Is this real? John was right. What is truth? Son must learn.”

John growled angrily, “Damn it, Sherlock, it’s me! Let me in!”

“State clearly,” Sherlock frowned, “The answer is not complete. Who is ‘Me’?”

“John Watson, AKA Johnny Appleseed, the Guardian of Welfare and Summer Spirit.”

There was a moment of silence and then the image shimmered and then vanished. The doors crept open.

“That could _not_ have been the answer to the riddle,” John frowned, “I guess I’m the secret answer, huh? Well… onward and upward.”

John entered the palace and found himself surrounded by books as he’d suspected. The long hallway stretched out before him with shelves going up so high they vanished into darkness. Dust was everywhere. So were small podiums with various pieces of artwork on it, a skull, and a violin. Above these were sconces in recesses that leant a small bit of light.

“Hello?” John called out.

“Who’s there?” A voice echoed back, “My last riddle wasn’t answered.”

“It’s me, Holmes,” Johnny spoke, his voice strangled, “It’s Watson.”

“Watson?”

Sherlock emerged from the shadows, a book on in his long-figured bony hand. He stared at John in shock and then retreated back into the shadows.

“I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I’d rather you didn’t see _me_ like this either,” Johnny admitted, “But I’ve little choice. The Guardians of Childhood are right behind me. They think you’re poisoning spirits and that you spread it using E. Aster Bunnymund’s flowers.”

“They’re smarter than I thought,” Sherlock snorted, “Especially considering they couldn’t solve more than two of my riddles… make that three. They just got past Irene.”

“Took them long enough. That one was easy,” John snorted.

“Quite,” Sherlock chuckled.

“Who were the kids? Your Irregulars?”

“I made them up, but yes. They were meant to represent both my Irregulars and my Trick or Treaters.”

“I thought they seemed familiar,” John smiled, “Look, I know I’m ugly but… wait… what did you mean ‘took them long enough’?”

“To figure out I was behind it,” Sherlock replied. He placed the book down on a pedestal that appeared out of the ground and crossed the gigantic hall to pull another book off of a shelf. He kept himself in darkness the entire time.

“You were? You poisoned Aster, Jack, and Pitch?”

“Aster was merely a test run. I… I wasn’t in my right mind then. I’ve no knowledge of how Jack became ill.”

“He touched Aster’s flowers,” John snarled, “The ones that looked like _apple blossoms_. The ones that are _heating up the planet!_ ”

“It wasn’t meant to pass into the soil,” Sherlock mused, “But it makes sense. Aster is a spring spirit. The illness must have grown and flourished in him, mutating into something more than I created.”

“Who was it meant for?”

“Originally? Pitch meant to take out someone called MiM. Whoever that is.”

“The Man in the Moon, you sod!”

Sherlock made a tsking sound, “I believe _you_ were the _sodomite_ , Doctor.”

John winced, “That might be what they hung me for, but it wasn’t what I did. Sholto and I were never intimate. We loved each other, it’s true, but he couldn’t find pleasure in me. I was just… his dear friend. As I was once yours.”

“I didn’t know you were hung for that,” Sherlock said softly, “I went looking for you and you were gone. No trace of you.”

“They buried me in an unmarked grave with other criminals. I had to claw my way out.”

“Yet _I’m_ the guardian of Halloween!” Sherlock laughed, “This MiM bastard sure does things backwards!”

“When I did no one could see me. I didn’t know you were a spirit too or I’d have sought you out sooner. Only the children could see me, and that was after I fed them. My apples restored their faith in the world,” John stepped forward and held one out, “Maybe they could do the same for you?”

“Look at me, John,” Sherlock stepped into the light, “I’m a _spectre_ , not a _spirit_. I’m no guardian, I’m a _monster_!”

“My Sherlock was never a monster.”

“Your _Holmes_ was never a monster. We never became familiar enough for me to be your _Sherlock_!”

“I wanted that,” John whispered as Sherlock stepped further forward, angrily towering over him, “I wanted you so much it hurt. I wept sometimes. Other times I just got… angry. That’s what happened to you, isn’t it? You got angry and Pitch manipulated you. When you realized it you turned on him and poisoned him.”

Sherlock held up a small piece of wrapped candy, “I poisoned him. I perfected it this time. He will not survive. Nothing you or the Guardians can do will save him. This is the last bit of toxic candy. When he dies I will ingest it and all malice on this planet will be gone.”

“Eat my apple instead.”

“I’ve always favoured sweets, John.”

“Let me take care of you the way I used to,” John pleaded, “Eat my apple.”

“And continue to be a wraith? No thank you.”

“Sherlock,” John pleaded, “I love you. I know you can be kind, and brilliant, and compelling. You made a mistake, but that’s no reason to end your life. We have a chance now that we didn’t have when we were alive. I know you wanted me too. I saw your eyes following me when we were alone. It made me _ache_. Did you know Aster and Jack are an item? They aren’t even the same species! If they can manage it, so can we. The other Guardians will forgive you and then we can be together.”

“You assume too much,” Sherlock sighed, “Look at me, John! Look at yourself! You aren’t exactly the handsome soldier who sat in my parlour sipping tea!”

John winced and took a step back, “You don’t want me anymore. That’s fine. I’ll… deal with it. Maybe you want someone else? North is handsome and strong. I’ll help you win him over, just like I helped you deal with people when we were alive.”

“You would just pass me on?”

“Anything to keep you _alive_ … or whatever passes for life in us now.”

The doors behind them swung open and John turned to glance back at the Guardians as they stepped into the room.

“Time’s up, John,” Sherlock replied, “For what it’s worth… I’m even more hideous naked. Now then… Welcome to Candy Land!”

Sherlock swirled a finger in the air above him and when he brought it down a licourice whip swung out and wrapped around John, tying his arms fast to his torso.

“Sherlock, no!” Johnny pleaded, toppling over as his legs were bound.

Sherlock ran past him with a wicked laugh, his skull-like face twisted in a garish grin. Another whip flew up and came down on Jack before the tired, recently ill, guardian could dodge it. He shouted in pain as blood began to seep through his shirt where it had struck his arm, shoulder, and back.

“You bastard!” Aster screamed, and launched himself at Sherlock with a murderous glint in his eyes.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Aster and Sherlock were caught in a frenzied battle. Aster throwing exploding eggs that grew from the pockets in the belts that criss-crossed his chest while Sherlock snapped his whip and caused them to erupt harmlessly in the air. When his whip wore down he simply summoned another, managing to strike Sandman with the damaged one as he attempted to sneak up on him. Sandy was knocked down the hallway where he rolled around like a top before falling still. Angry, Aster stomped on the ground, dropped into the clouds, and reappeared behind Sherlock. He spun around and snapped his whip fast, but Aster was faster and knocked the wind out of him with a sharp kick from his powerful legs. Sherlock flew across the room and slammed into the bookshelves. Aster was on him in a heartbeat, using his own whip to tie him up.

“No!” Johnny shouted, “No! Let me talk to him! Fall back! _Fall back!”_

“This isn’t that kind of battle,” Tooth explained as she struggled to untie him.

“Tooth!” North shouted at her from where he was trying to stem Jack’s bleeding, “Don’t untie him! He’ll only get in the way!”

“You bastards!” Johnny raged, trying and failing to summon his fire. He was weakening, but he had no idea why. A strange exhaustion was stealing over him. His eyes fell on the flower blooming on the ground where Aster had created a hole earlier. It was a brilliant blue aster flower.

“Tooth! North! The flower! The aster! Sherlock’s healed him!”

“How?” Tooth asked.

“When?” North wondered.

Aster was currently trying to talk himself out of beating the helpless Sherlock Skellington to a pulp. He glanced over at their words, a look of surprise on his face.

“Maybe…?” Aster wondered, and showed where he’d been nicked by the whip, “But what he did to Jack isn’t exactly helping him!”

“It… it is!” Jack gasped, “I can feel it! Aster… _winter is coming!”_

With that an icy blast exploded out of Jack, knocking them all back as the winter sprite lost control of his powers. The room was instantly covered in snowfall, the floors a sheet of ice, and the ceiling covered in icicles. The other Guardians were shivering with the cold and Jack was convulsing on the floor. His power was flying out of him, completely out of control. When it finally stopped he dropped to the floor and laid still. Aster struggled up and flew to his side, his own energy ebbing as the urge to curl up in his burrow snuck up on him. Jack was still as Aster pulled his head into his lap, but it appeared that his wounds had closed. His breath stirred his ear as Aster leaned over him.

Then laughter shook them all from their shock. Sherlock was slowly standing, his whip sliding off of him as if it were melting. He smiled a toothy grin, his black eyes staring them all down in turn. Ice impeded Tooth’s wings. Sandy was snoring down the hall. Aster was weakly holding an unconscious Jack in his arms. But North… North was slowly standing up and pulling two sharp blades from their sheeths.

“I am Cossack,” North snarled, “I was the King of Thieves and now I am Father Christmas. You will not defeat me with either summer or snow. Now! You! FALL!”

North flew at Sherlock who brought up another whip, but North’s swords went through it like butter. Sherlock retreated, barely holding North off as the man’s weapons cut through the air so fast they sang. He laughed, taunted, and slowly backed Skellington down his own hallway until his back was pressed to the door.

“Now you have nowhere to run!” North shouted, placing the sharp end of the blade against Skellington’s throat.

“You _really_ aren’t the most intelligent one, are you?” Sherlock sighed, then turned the knob and ducked down.

Skellington slammed his shoulder into North’s midsection and pushed with his legs. The man howled in shock as he was tossed over Sherlock’s back and out the door where he landed head-first in the marshmallow terrain and simply stuck there, legs kicking helplessly. Sherlock shut the door behind him and dusted off his hands, but Sandy had awoken and Tooth was ready to fight. Sandy launched first, his whips matching Sherlock’s snap for clash while Tooth flew at him with razor sharp wings extended. Sherlock ducked Tooth’s first attack but suffered a sharp blow from her second.

Then Aster stood up, a frown on his face. He walked across the floor and picked up the apple that had been discarded there. He glanced back at Jack and then stared at the scene before him. He was blinking blearily at the sight of his comrades fighting, but seemed dazed and confused. Skellington was knocked to the ground where Tooth extended a sharp wing to pin him and Sandy raised a ball of sleep sand to knock him out cold.

“Wait!” Aster called, staggering forward, “Jack says to use this.”

“What? Why?” Tooth asked.

“Dunno,” Aster shrugged, “But it’s worth a shot. Maybe Appleseed did something to it. C’mere Skellington. Open up.”

Aster tossed it to tooth who cut a slice out of the apple with her razor sharp wings. She pressed it to Sherlock’s thin lips and he parted them after giving her a glare. The apple burst on his tongue when he bit into the wedge, flavour exploding as the juices dripped down his chin. His eyes widened and he chewed in silence for a while before swallowing. When he blinked a tear left his eye. Defeated, Sherlock Skellington lay his head back against his mausoleum of books, closed his eyes, and wept.

“What have I done?” He sobbed, “What have I done? Ruined all!”

“Not all,” Jack whispered weakly, “Winter is here. You have a job to do, especially seeing as how I’m too drained to stand.”

“John?” Skellington choked out, staggering to his feat as Tooth and Sandy stepped back in confusion.

“Sleepin off the winter,” Aster muttered, “The way he should be.”

Sherlock crossed to him and knelt, disengaging his whips to pull the rag-doll man into his arms. He stroked John’s hair and cheek for a moment, smiling softly at him.

“You two can be together now,” Jack said softly.

“He needs to go home for the summer,” Sherlock stated.

“Does he?” Jack wondered, “Your fall, not winter. He’ll tolerate being around you… once your hallway thaws.”

Skellington stood up, holding John’s limp figure in his arms. He summoned a bed from thin air, it’s pillow marshmallow, blanket taffy, feet gumdrops, and bedposts made of candy canes. It floated upwards and vanished into the darkness above them, “He won’t want me anymore.”

“He’s in fucking _love_ with you, ya barmy git,” Aster scoffed, “He made that apple _just_ to clear Pitch’s stink out of you.”

“A child named Cupcake already pulled most of it from me,” Sherlock replied, then paused, “Pitch will die.”

“You can heal…” Jack started.

“He meant to kill _you_ ,” Sherlock replied, turning to Jack, “He wanted winter to end so you were weakened. He wanted revenge, which he then would have taken to your god. Do you still want me to save him?”

Tooth stepped forward and put her hand on his arm, “It’s the right thing to do. You know that. What would you have done when you were alive and still the man Johnny fell in love with?”

Sherlock sighed, “If I _hadn’t_ caused his illness I would have let him die and congratulated the world for ridding us of a villain!”

“But having caused it?” Tooth prompted.

“Take me to him,” Sherlock replied with a frustrated growl.

XXX

Aster thumped the ground in Santoff Clausen and dropped into the ground, sliding down his tubes with ease despite Jack’s still figure curled up in his arms. He hopped into his Warren and ordered the Egg Warriors to keep everyone out. He wasn’t about to send Jack back to his little nest area, so instead he took his exhausted lover to his own burrow and laid him down on some blankets in the pantry. Jack was tired from expending so much energy to help Mother Nature bring in winter. Apparently she’d been the first victim after Sherlock’s test run on Aster. Now she was healed along with Pitch, who was grouchily recovering under the guard of North and his Yeti’s. They were constructing a prison for him in the tallest tower, which was apparently fitting in some silly fairy tale way according to Jack.

Aster yawned. He was _tired_. Winter meant sleep, so he hopped to his bed, snuggled his stuffed Pooka full of Jack’s hair, and curled up to sleep. 


	15. Chapter 15

BONUS SCENE- this is NOT the epilogue:

North stepped forward and picked up Nana’s tea cup from the tray, pouring some tea into it and taking a dainty sip from the tiny glass.

“Hm,” He said, smacking his lips, “Tastes sort of… nutty.”

“Nutty?” Jack snickered, “Really?”

“Yeth,” North replied, turning to face them.

Jack’s eyes opened up wide in horror, “Uh… North? You feeling okay?”

“Wandering wallabies!” Aster gaped, “He’s turning into a muffin!”

“No, he’s swelling up!” Tooth gaped, “North, you’re allergic to the tea!”

“Do we have medicine?” Jack asked anxiously.

“What did you do to my friend, you hag?!” Aster screamed, grabbing the woman and shaking her violently. Her tray toppled to the ground, the teapot and cup shattering and the rest of the contents scattering.

“Now we’ll never get past her!” Tooth groaned.

Sandy was waving his hands dramatically to get their attention but Jack and Toothiana were trying to make sure North didn’t stop breathing. His face was an angry red, his lips and cheeks swollen like balloons. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, it was too big to keep inside. His breathing was coming in whistles from his swollen throat.

“What do we do?!” Tooth wailed, “I know so many medications to treat this, but we don’t have them!”

“Maybe they’re around here somewhere?” Jack asked, casting around him, “Like how in nature the cure often grows near the cause?”

“I say we search her house!” Aster snarled, stomping past her and shoving her door open. He walked in and walked straight back out again, looking around himself in confusion, “It’s fake. It doesn’t lead anywhere, I just end up back out here.”

Aster tried it a couple more times while Sandy shook his head in disgust. North had stopped swelling but he looked _miserable._ Finally they helped him stand up and he gave the woman a glare while she stared up at him with a happy smile. Her glasses were off one ear but she didn’t seem to mind.

That was when they caught sight of Sandy who was demonstrating over and again that he could simply _walk past her_.

“You’re kidding,” Jack groaned.

“That’s the choice?!” Tooth screamed at her, “To just _not eat anything_?! What about healthy food choices!!”

Aster grabbed her arm and gently tugged her along, Jack patting her shoulder gently while she snarled in frustration.

“It’s okay, Tooth,” Jack soothed, “Just walk away. She’s not worth it.”

North and Sandy walked along behind then, North poking miserably at his swollen face with his eyes watering, while Sandy silently laughed at him.

“Bye bye!” Nana called cheerily, waving at them happily, “Toodles!”

End Scene

 

**I am very sad because only two people attempted my riddles :’( My games have gone so well in the past with my Stalker and Reflex fics, so I wasn’t expecting this. I’m wondering if anyone is reading?**

**Anyway, I’ll up the ante.**

**Get ONE riddle right and you can push the WIP of your choice to the front of the update line. Get THREE correct and you can push a WIP –OR- have me start an already existing prompt of your choice ([prompt list](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/1853.html)) both my own and commenter prompts are open. Get all four of them right and you can have me start a brand new prompt of your choice. You do NOT have to justify your response, just comment an answer here or on my FB page. (I've removed the restriction on anon commenting but I'll put it RIGHT back on if I get any threats again!)**

 

RIDDLES:

1\. What walks on the first day, runs on the second, staggers on the third, and stands on the fourth.

 

2\. On my plate two choices lie, one is truth and one is rye. Chose the one which safely passes, or all your friends will mourn their losses! (Clues: On the tray were two biscuits, a slice of rye bread, butter, jam, and some tea. One biscuit looked like chocolate chip, which was John’s favourite. The other looked like ginger snap. Did she mean rye or wry?) This one was answered above. 

 

3\. What else is on the candy land spinner besides colours? Be kind and don’t google it. ( _This one does not count in the challenge because I can’t tell who did and didn’t google the answers). Answer: A nut, a lollypop, a mint, and an icecream cone. I also would have accepted “double colours” in addition to the others._

 

4\. What wears a cloak for part of a day and sunscreen for the other part?

 

5\. What has power, but no strength; many arms, but no hands; stretches across lands, but remains in a seat?

 

6\. “Where are you? Is this real? John was right. What is truth? Son must learn.”


	16. Chapter 16

This is not done in tribute to my fic or anything as far as I’m aware, but it’s the most accurate representation I could find of what I picture Sherlock and John looking like now. Please give the truly talented artist some love. The Blue Fish.

 

<http://the-blue-fish.deviantart.com/art/The-Nightmare-Before-Sherlock-211774149>

 

Sherlock’s minions were carrying John on a strip of taffy, the taller hunched down so the shorter could manage. Sherlock was weary from his work healing Pitch over the last few days, but he’d managed a bit of sleep before leaving Santoff Claussen. He walked the long, narrow stairs up to the loft above his library. It contained a bed, a dressing table with mirror for applying make-up, and a rack full of his costumes. He strode to the bed- a black and grey affair with lace spider webs for a canopy- and waited until his Irregulars were level with it before sliding his hands gently beneath Jonh’s shoulders and knees. He lifted him easily. He felt like a stuffed toy rather than the strong soldier Sherlock remembered.

“Would that I had held you in life,” Sherlock spoke softly, and then laid him down gently on his bed. He tucked the sleeping man in; “You never found a home after Baker Street, did you? You lived and died with Sholto, but you never considered that place _yours_. Then in death you wandered the earth. Alone. My wayward soldier. Sleep and be soothed, you are home now.”

Sherlock strode to his dressing table and sat down on the stool in front of it to stare morosely at his reflection. Outside his Mind Palace there was excessive cheer, but inside all was dark and quiet. Even echoes feared him. Sherlock’s skull-like face stared back at him, eyes overlarge and black while his skin was so thin and stretched across his flesh that it was practically translucent. He’d always had a broad smile, but now it was just so…

Sherlock sighed and picked up a comb to tend his hair. At least _that_ was still attractive. He spent some time applying make-up that would make him look more like his former self, especially around his now heavily textured lips. By the time he was done at least his _face_ wasn’t alarming. His body had always been whiplash thin. It was unlikely John would want to touch him, but if he could have that admiring gaze on him again it would make life worthwhile.

John stirred in his sleep and Sherlock brushed his string-like hair out of the way. His  flesh had been worn to leather texture by time and weather, covered in stitches from whatever experimentation they’d done on his body before burying it. Sherlock still thought he was gorgeous. If anything the touch of macabre was stimulating. He missed the gothic nature of their previous lives.

John’s eyes stirred open and Sherlock gasped as he stared into them. He’d forgotten that curious pattern in his irises that resembled a button. He’d always wanted to have the freedom to simply stare into them and now he did, drowning himself in the sight of John’s beautiful blue eyes. John reached up and ran a hand through his hair, his expression soft and tender.

“You’re so beautiful,” John breathed.

Sherlock smiled sadly, turning his head and kissing the man’s hand.

“Why are you covering it up?” John asked, “Let me see that porcelain skin.”

“What?” Sherlock pulled back in surprise, “John, I’m _hideous_!”

“You’re nothing of the sort, you vain thing,” John chuckled, pushing himself up on his elbows, “Damn, I hate winter. So tired. My disarticulated joints ache.”

Sherlock leaned back as John stretched and yawned, “I’ll take care of you. Rest. Sleep.”

“I don’t hibernate,” John chuckled, “I’ll sleep for a few days at a time then wake up and move about a bit, then repeat. Come on. Your face. I want _you_. Do you want me to cover up my changes?”

“No,” Sherlock replied, stroking John’s skin.

“So?” John prompted.

Sherlock stood and went to his mirror, staring at himself as he took a seat. John rose as well and followed after, standing behind him with a sad smile on his face as they both gazed at Sherlock’s reflection. Finally John picked up a cloth, dipped it in makeup remover, and ran it across Sherlock’s cheek. The pale flesh beneath was revealed and John’s breath caught in his throat. Sherlock stared up at him, his skills at deduction rising to the surface. _Dilated pupils. Increased respiration. Pulse elevated. Arousal!_

Sherlock closed his eyes and let John clean his face, ears, and neck. He leaned his head back against his stomach and felt the warmth coming off of him. He’d been cold for so long, alone for so much longer, a freak in a world of mediocre people and then a ghoul in a world of sunshine. Now he was where he belonged. A combination of the sweets he loved, the morbid life he knew, and the man he had lived and died for.

John straightened him up, pulled out the stool, and walked around him to sink into his lap.

“That’s better. Just a couple of crazy corpses,” John snickered.

Sherlock smirked, “Not my idea of appealing, but you’ll always be attractive to me.”

“Well we aren’t _really_ corpses,” John reminded him, “We’re… I dunno. Spirits, I guess. That’s the term Jack uses and he’s like us. Died and came back like _this_.”

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s waist and leaned in for a kiss, stilling partway there as he realized it would be not only _their_ first kiss, but also _Sherlock’s_ first kiss entirely. John closed the gap and he was surrounded by warmth and the spicy scent of whatever crème John smeared on his skin to deal with the elements. John moaned softly and Sherlock clutched him tightly, fingers tangling in his ugly, threadbare sweater. When their lips parted Sherlock was trembling with anticipation.

John whispered, “Sherlock.”

“Yes?”

John grinned, “I just wanted to say your first name to you. I was always too much of a prude to say it before. You called me John sometimes, but I was always… in awe of you. And when you weren’t around I couldn’t do it either. I once whispered your _last_ name while tossing off.”

“That must have been incredibly unfulfilling,” Sherlock snickered, “Though I can top it.”

“Oh?” John asked with a raised bit of stitched eyebrow.

“I died a virgin,” Sherlock replied, his teasing smile slipping away, “I only ever loved you and you were… I meant to come back to you, John. I wasn’t supposed to die that day. I intended to come home and beg you to love me back, even if it meant losing your respect.”

John closed his eyes, fighting back tears for a moment. It was an old wound that no ME could stitch shut. When he opened them again they were clear and the regret had faded to a dull ache.

“I want you now and always,” John told him, “Will you be mine?”

“For eternity,” Sherlock replied softly.

They sank into another kiss and John moaned deeply, startling Sherlock when he began to roll his hips against him.

“Is this… arousing you?” Sherlock asked, breaking the kiss in shock. John pulled away, shame flashing through his eyes, but Sherlock tugged him back down into his lap, “I didn’t meant that as a judgement. I’m just not used to being desired anymore.”

“Well I do. Desire you, I mean,” John replied, “Could we do… something?”

“Yes please,” Sherlock replied, startling them both with the politeness.

Shy hands met firm ones, John surprised at his own confidence as he tugged Sherlock’s tall form back to the bed. They tumbled down together and Sherlock nuzzled against John.

“You’re so warm and soft,” Sherlock purred, snuggling him hungrily, “There’s something I need to warn you about.”

“You bite?” John asked, raising an eyebrow, “Because that’s what I’m hoping you’ll say.”

“Well,” Sherlock smirked, “I certainly _can_. However, I was referring to the fact that my penis becomes erect through the internal insertion of a bone that slides out of my pelvis.”

“Your boner literally has a bone in it,” John asked, his voice flat.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, “However, I’m willing to bottom if you…”

“You are going to fuck me into this mattress and I’m going to take it like a soldier. Got it?” John growled.

“Yes sir,” Sherlock smirked.

John rolled them, straddling Sherlock’s thighs as he began to undo his suit jacket; Beneath that was a waistcoat, beneath that a dress shirt, and beneath that a pale expanse of skin that felt like silk over strong bones. John chuckled at all the layers and started on his lower half, removing _two_ full pairs of trousers before reaching a pair of long underwear.

“Cold?” John chuckled, staring down at a flaccid member surrounded by wiry black hair with a soft, small pair of bollocks beneath.

“It makes me look bigger,” Sherlock confessed, “Less… skeletal.”

“You’re willowy and gorgeous,” John scolded, “I love all your sharp angles.”

“I love how soft you are,” Sherlock replied, reaching up to stroke his hands along John’s cheek, “Your skin is like the softest leather. Like home. I want to see more.”

John smiled and slid his sweater over his head. His button down plaid shirt came next and he smiled down at Sherlock. He might be covered in scars, but he knew his figure was attractive. He was all muscles and brawn with just enoug pudge at his belly to make him look like he ought to be laid down on. He wanted that, too- Sherlock’s sharp body pinning him down- but he had to reassure the man first. He stood up on the bed, stepping off of his beloved to strip down his patched trousers and the pants beneath. He straddled those thin hips again and Sherlock ran his fingers over John’s stitching.

“Want to see something neat?” John asked with a smirk, because he knew Sherlock and knew he could show him _anything_ and the sicko would be fascinated.

“Yes,” Sherlock confirmed, so John removed his arm and handed it to him.

“Bloody good show!” Sherlock cheered, turning it about as he’d expected and glancing inside the limb, “What’s this, then?”

“Leaves,” John chuckled, “From an apple tree, of course. I was originally stuffed with sawdust- the sick bastards who put me together kept my bones- but it made me heavy and ungainly so that had to go. Hard to go dancing about on sunbeams like the big gay scarecrow I am when I’m weighted down.”

Sherlock laughed heartily, pressing the limb on and watching in fascination as the stitches re-attached themselves.

“What keeps you going? What’s on the inside?”

“I have organs,” John replied, “I can eat and… well, everything. The leaves are just there to fill in where my bones should be, though how it all works together is a mystery. It just seems to work by magic, as annoying as that concept is. My head still has my brain in it as far as I can tell.”

“I’ve always suspected that was where the soul lay,” Sherlock decided.

“What about you?”

“I died of a fall,” Sherlock replied, “As you know. I hit the rocks and my skull was… I landed face down. I was aware from the moment of my death- something you apparently weren’t- and I tried to call out to you. I swear, John. I wanted to comfort you-“

“Shhhh,” John soothed, “My love. We are here now. Hold me.”

John tugged and they rolled together, Sherlock hesitant until John wrapped his legs around him and pulled him down on top of him. Sherlock moaned into his neck, burrowing his face into John’s soft skin. John simply held him for a moment, limbs wrapped tight and face buried in silken curls. Then he felt a nudge against the inside of his thigh and a smile drew across his patterned face.

“My love,” John purred.

“Sorry,” Sherlock muttered, “I’m normally more intellectual and less libidinous.”

“I’m not about to complain,” John purred, “I want this, Sherlock. I want”

“I’m not about to complain,” John purred, “I want this, Sherlock. I want _you_.”

“I confess a lack of knowledge on the subject.”

John chuckled, “Where’s my satchel?”

Sherlock reached off the side of the bed and pulled up his satchel and John pulled out the leather crème he used on his skin. He soaked Sherlock’s fingers with it and guided him down between his cheeks with a lurid wink. Sherlock’s pale cheeks flushed a pale rose and John smirked at him as his breath sped up. The small, limp member he’d seen when first undressing Sherlock was undergoing a strange process that distracted John from the ministration beneath his body. A thick bone was sliding out from inside of his pelvis to fill the limp sheath that lay nestled in those dark curls. It started as a thickness at the base that quickly reached the tip and then the flesh stretched forward until he was faced with a thick cock that was as rigid as the man he had always loved.

“Oh gods,” John panted, and fell back against the mattress. Sherlock took advantage of the better angle and slipped a second finger into him. He was up to a third as John panted in desire, shocked by how aroused he was at the idea of Sherlock’s turgid organ in his body.

“It may hurt,” Sherlock told him, his deep voice rumbling with a mixture of warning and promise.

“Don’t care. I just want us to be _one_.”

“My love,” Sherlock purred, “I am going to _consume_ you.”

“Yes,” John moaned as Sherlock slipped his fingers free.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck and pulled him in as the man leaned over him and slipped his arms beneath John’s legs to give himself more room to press inside.

“Okay,” John breathed, “Go slowly.”

“Yes,” Sherlock whispered, pressing the surprisingly spongy head of his cock against John’s gaping entrance.

John hummed at the burn, eyes closed and breathing controlled, as Sherlock slowly slid partway inside. He pulled back again, making a strained sound as he kept himself reined in, and then slid fully into John with both of them letting out a soft sound of relief.

“Hold, hold, hold,” John whimpered, stilling him with a hand on his hip. Sherlock’s shoulders were heaving, his eyes wild with desire, “Okay. Now.”

Sherlock shifted his hips, but the angle was wrong for him. He stretched out across John’s body and tried to move again, and this time John was able to roll his hips with him and they began a slow glide. John whimpered as pleasure sparked through his body, his legs wrapping around Sherlock’s hips and locking at the ankles. He gripped Sherlock’s hair with one hand and used the other to stroke along his slim body. His breath was becoming ragged as the man’s silken flesh stroked John’s hard cock while that rock hard member played the inside of his body like a fiddle. A shift of his hips had his prostate being outright milked and John began to cry out as his pleasure mounted.

“John,” Sherlock moaned, “I can’t… I’m close…”

John groaned, knowing it was too much to expect Sherlock to last long while losing his virginity after _hundreds_ of years of celibacy but he knew if Sherlock kept going he’d be having an absolutely mind blowing orgasm. He slowed his lover, stilling his hips with a firm grip on his buttocks, and began to contract his muscles around that rigid shaft. John gasped as his muscles pressed Sherlock into his prostate over and again. He could feel himself dripping onto his stomach while Sherlock groaned at the restraint and repetitive tightness. It was keeping him hard without letting him get the friction he needed to climax, but he wasn’t about to complain as he could tell by John’s sharp cries that he was approaching something glorious.

When John came his entire body tensed as his climax rolled through him from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. A full body shudder took over him and he let out a strangled scream as his cock throbbed between them. It seemed to go on forever, bordering on painful, and then John went limp with a soft croon of pleasure.

That was Sherlock’s signal to finish and the man let out a savage growl and began to take him fast and hard. John lay limp with a satisfied smile on his face, occasionally wincing at Sherlock’s pounding inside of his body. Sherlock held John’s legs up, lifting his hips up off the bed so he could gain leverage to take him wildly. His head was thrown back, his face twisted in a wicked grin, his eyes closed in pleasure. When he came he pried his eyes open so he could stare down at his lover until his climax forced them to flutter closed. John groaned at the pulse inside of his body, then lay still as Sherlock collapsed over him.

They panted together for a moment, John running his hands through Sherlock’s glossy hair and made soft happy noises as the man nuzzled him lovingly. This was what he had wanted. This was what he had come back from the dead for. Not the sex, but the post-coital moments of tenderness that he had been denied by the times they had lived through. Then something felt… off.

“Sherlock…” John wondered.

“Mm, yes, my dear doctor,” Sherlock purred.

“Why do I smell caramel?”

“Ah, that,” Sherlock sighed, “I probably should have had you shave your anus first…”

“SON OF A BITCH!”

 

 

Riddle Answers:

  1.      Water. In spring it trickles as the ice melts, in summer it runs with the heavy rainfall from spring, in fall it gets clogged with leaves, and in winter it freezes. I would also accept ‘creeks’, ‘streams’, and ‘rivers’.
  2.      “No Thank you,” Was the correct choice with Mrs. Nutt. I would also have accepted “Walk past her.” Either way the choice was between indulging or not indulging rather than the item on the tray. There’s an extra bit of amusing stuff below regarding this answer ;)
  3.      A nut, a lollypop, a mint, and an icecream cone. I also would have accepted “double colours” in addition to the ones above.
  4.      The Earth. During the night it wears a ‘cloak of darkness’ during the day it is bathed in sunlight. I would also have accepted ‘The Moon’ since it seems like it would fit with the Guardian thing.
  5.      Government. It has power, but no actual ability to move physical things. It has armies (arms but no hands). It can cross many lands but never leaves it’s ‘seat’ of power.
  6.      The last one is a skip-cipher. The question is “Where is John Watson (What son)?” The answer would be his actual location, which Sherlock constantly monitors. John got it by default by identifying himself, but Sherlock wasn’t expecting that so he was surprised by his entrance and thought it was a trick.




	17. Chapter 17

“You don’t understand,” Pitch pleaded weakly, “Skellington or Holmes or whoever he is… he has it all wrong.”

“Ja,” North sighed, “Sure he does.”

“It wasn’t _me_. It was the shadow.”

“Sure it was.”

“He had eight legs.”

“Mhm,” North rolled his eyes, pushing Pitch down the forest path in a wheelchair.

“A spider. I’m sure of it,” Pitch whimpered, “Please don’t send me down there!”

“What am I to do with you, hm?” North asked, “You cause trouble, we save you from it, now you want hand outs? Bah!”

North motioned for Jack to come forward and the sprite eagerly stepped forward and slipped an arm beneath Pitch’s arms to lever him up.

“Okay tall, dark, and depressing, down you go. Through the looking glass!”

Jack jumped down the hole where his bed once lay, dropping into The Nightmare King’s dark underworld home. He used his magic to slow their descent and landed softly, all but dragging a shaking Pitch along the way.

“Look,” Jack sighed, “North isn’t the best listenener, you know? He’s more of a doer. The thing is, after years of not being seen I’ve gotten kinda good at listening. So if you have something to tell us, now’s the time.”

“His web is thick, Jack,” Pitch whispered, “Don’t step on it.”

Jack froze and glanced around, but there was no spider web to be seen. Only rocks, dust, and shadow.

“You’re a creepy bastard, you know that?”

“I gave his poison to Holmes,” Pitch said softly, “I had no idea. No idea.”

“Riiight,” Jack sighed, lowering pitch down to the ground amidst his creepy torture-chamber-like cavern, “Well, this has been incredibly slasher film of you, but I’m gonna head out.”

“Jack!” Pitch shouted just as the sprite turned.

Jack sighed and turned back to the weakened spirit, “What?”

“Beware,” Pitch moaned.

“Oh, yeah. Cause _that’s_ not cliché or anything,” Jack shrugged.

“Beware the eyes.”

“Of March?” Jack asked.

Pitch frowned, “No, you stupid boy! That’s _Ides_ of March. Beware the _eyes_.”

“Sleep tight,” Jack shrugged, turning and heading towards the surface. On his way back up he tripped over seemingly nothing and toppled over. It felt almost like someone had drawn a rope across the pathway, but when he looked back there was nothing there.

_I swear, if he’s sending his Night Mares after me…_

Jack stood up and continued on his way, unaware that a nearly invisible thread was vibrating from his faltered step. Along the walls it travelled, across the ceiling, through a small crack in the wall, deep into caverns unseen by even Pitch’s eyes, down and down into the darkest parts of the earth where those who know the name Man in the Moon dare not go.

Eight eyes opened in the darkness, black and forming a half circle as if they were the teeth of a Cheshire cat smile. A soft echo of laughter moved through the cavern and above the hard surface animals stilled in their tracks, ears moving in fear, and then instinctively began to shy from a part of the woods that seemed to reek of danger. In a matter of hours it was deserted of all larger life forms. In a few weeks the rodents had left. In a month even the insects dared not enter a mile wide segment of the woods.

By that point winter was in full swing and only the guardian of laughter would have seen the disturbance, but as it happened a house was on that small bit of land and that child was owned by a man, who in turn was owned by a child. That child would lay awake on December 24th and wait with flashlight in hand and a prayer on her lips. As North slipped into her home and began to lay out her presents she slipped out of her loft bed and gently tugged on his long robe.

“Oh, well,” North smiled, “You are to be asleep, my dear Amelia.”

“I’m dreadfully sorry Santa,” Amelia replied softly, “But there’s a horrible crack in my wall and I think it’s eaten my mother.”

“Ate your mother?” North frowned, and held out his hand, “Show me.”

Amelia led North up to her loft and showed him the crack on her wall. From it a coldness emerged that was not wind or ice. When he leaned forward and peered through a light appeared and then vanished. When he backed up and looked around himself again the loft and Amelia had vanished. He turned around, staring at the darkness he had found himself in. Nearby a strange shape moved in the darkness and a soft laugh sounded like the tinkling of bells.

“Why hello Nicholas, how kind of you to call,” The voice taunted him, “I’m sorry to disturb your day, but you see… I owe your friend a fall.”


End file.
